


Deep Ravine

by Alabaster86



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Gen, Postpartum Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alabaster86/pseuds/Alabaster86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the birth of her first child, Mai falls into a depression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Deep Ravine**

_**Prologue** _

"What?" Mai stared down at her belly, then over at Zuko. Sagely he shook his head and muttered something incomprehensible. "Yes, it's huge. Yes, it's bigger than it was yesterday. Do you _have_ to stare?"

The Fire Lady, at twenty eight years old and nine months pregnant, felt ungainly and cranky and tired and just about anything but motherly and glowing. She was more an overripe fruit, way beyond its fresh date, ready to explode. The baby was almost three weeks overdue, uncommon but not unheard of. That did not ease her discomfort or her anxiety.

"I wasn't staring."

"So, _what_ ; I'm just impossible to miss? Is that what you're saying?"

"No, no….." Zuko was flustered now and wanted only to escape. "I've got some work to do in my office. I won't be too long." He approached Mai with care and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Fine, I'll just lounge on the bed like some bloated carcass and hope that something happens."

"After, we'll go for a brisk walk. Remember what Katara said; walking is good for stimulating labour."

"Remember what Katara said," Mai mimicked in a sour voice. "Fine, we'll walk until I can't walk anymore."

No amount of wisdom or words of experience from Katara and Suki had prepared Mai for pregnancy. She expected that their tales of labour and delivery and the first months of motherhood would serve her with equal feebleness. Just as Zuko's fantasies of taking the Fire Nation into a new age with grace and ease, stepping into the position of Fire Lord with little trouble and no backlash, blew up in his face, messy and violent, so Mai's own ideas of life as Zuko's partner, wife, lover had not been quite accurate.

But that was the way of things. What you expected and what you dreamed rarely if ever became your reality. That's wasn't to say reality wasn't good, even blissful on occasion. It had its healthy dose of bad too and irritating and troublesome and frustrating. The important thing was, both Mai and Zuko were accustomed to difficult realities. They'd grown up on them and thus knew how to plough through them with determination, wit, sarcasm and stubbornness. They would be fine. Everything would be all right. And their first child would be born healthy…..and soon.

~~~~0000~~~~

"Well? Do you feel anything yet?" Zuko had one hand pressed into the small of Mai's back and he looked at her with that earnestness particular to only him.

"No," she answered with unplanned abruptness.

Zuko removed his hand for a moment, then put it back, rubbing with as much soothing power as he could. Mai intuited her husband's sense of helplessness; it fit well with her own. They stood that way, unmindful of the actual gardens, the abundance of shrubs and flowers, all well tended and lush, sweet smells wafting dreamily about them.

"Do you want to walk some more? Are you tired?"

"We're having this baby tonight." Mai set her mouth in a grim line and forged ahead. "You think she'd want to come out, right? It's got to be boring in there." She rubbed her abdomen. "Come on, baby, what's the hold up?"

Another hour passed. The sun vanished below the horizon, leaving a trail of bruises behind, as if its leave-taking was more akin to a beating. The sky recovered, the purples faded, replaced by a palette of blacks and deep blues, speckled with glowing dots of white.

As she was about to give up for the night and surrender to the call of a soft mattress and fresh sheets, Mai stopped abruptly, grabbing hold of Zuko's arm.

"Something's happening." Warm wetness soaked her undergarments and trickled down her legs. "My water broke, Zuko."

They exchanged a long look, their expressions mirroring each others, changing from relief to worry to terror, all within a few seconds.

"Let's get you inside. Finally, the wait is over."

Their wait had just begun.

~~~~0000~~~

Sixteen hours later, the following afternoon, Mai and Zuko welcomed their first child, a daughter. Feeling like a used towel, sodden and spent, her body trembling with exhaustion, Mai let her head fall back against the pile of pillows Zuko had arranged behind her. She watched through bleary eyes as the midwife handed the baby off to Zuko before busying herself with tending to Mai. The Fire Lord carried his heir as though she were a sea shell, delicate and breakable and achingly beautiful.

The look on his face brought tears to Mai's eyes. They stung. So she wiped them away and got herself under control.

"Do _I_ get to see her?" She offered her husband a weak smile.

He inched his way to the head of the bed, fiddling with the baby's scarlet blanket before sitting down along its edge, placing the newborn in Mai's arms. She was lovely, though Mai surmised every new parent saw only perfection. Their daughter had all her fingers and all her toes and eyes already shining with life, and a remarkable head of thick, black hair. Mai stared down at her, stared deep into gold eyes, and made silent promises, ones she hoped that she could keep.

_I'll love you no matter what. I won't ignore who you are. I'll listen to you. I'll hear you._

The Fire Lady felt a strange constriction in her chest, a pressing on her heart; it was love blooming for the little creature she held in her arms, and the fear of ruining her too. The baby was untainted now, as innocent as she would ever be, unaware of the darkness that life could contain.

"Hey," Zuko whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "Are you all right?" He pushed aside a few strands of damp, ebony tresses that clung to Mai's neck.

"You try breathing through contractions, clenching your jaw and pushing for sixteen hours and then ask me that again." He looked so aghast that Mai reached up with one hand and stroked his cheek. "I'm okay, just so, so tired."

Her breasts throbbed too and the infant began to squirm a bit in her arms.

"She'll be hungry, my lady."

Zuko and the midwife looked at Mai expectantly. Was she supposed to magically know what to do? Katara had made breastfeeding look so simple and Kya took to it immediately, never missing a beat. Self conscious, she placed the baby on her lap and moved her simple tunic aside, exposing one breast. She lifted her daughter once more and positioned her as she'd seen Katara do with Kya.

The infant, she really needed a name, tried to latch on, failed and then began to cry. Frustrated, Mai tried once more, rubbing her nipple along the baby's lower lip. She was too busy howling to take notice. Mai held her close for a moment, attempting to calm her.

"I don't know what to do," she declared, glancing between Zuko and the midwife.

"It will get easier. Try her again in a few minutes. Eventually she'll be hungry enough to figure it out. Get some rest if you can. Drink lots of water. I'll came back early in the morning to check on you."

With those words, the midwife left and Zuko and Mai were alone with their daughter.

"I don't know what to do," she repeated before closing her eyes and drifting off.

~~~~0000~~~~

Her nap was a brief one. A parade of visitors, wavering between unrepressed joy, Iroh and Tom-Tom, subdued interest, her parents, and pride, her Uncle, made their way in and then out of the room, cooing and laughing and fussing and frowning. Mai appreciated their well wishes and their affection and their concern, but she needed more sleep. And Zuko did too.

Once they had all gone, Mai attempted to feed the baby again. This time, she drank for a few minutes before falling asleep, her fists tight, her lips moving in time to some dream perhaps.

"Thank Agni," Mai sighed. "I thought she would never eat." She tucked the baby in beside her while Zuko crawled up on the other side of the bed. "Let's sleep."

They managed an hour and a half before Miyako, that was the name they decided on as slumber dragged them both down, awoke crying. Mai fed her again, for longer this time. The nurse they had hired, a brisk, efficient woman, knocked and entered a few minutes later, scooping up Miyako and changing her diaper before ordering food and drink for both Mai and Zuko.

Mai was both glad to see the woman and upset that they needed her services at all. She didn't want to be a typical noblewoman, foisting the care of her children off onto someone else, parading them about when it suited, never getting her hands dirty. What was the point of that? But a little help right now was all right. She was so exhausted and weak feeling and feeding Miyako was about all she could manage.

_It's just for the first few weeks; until I adjust and get back on my feet and figure things out._

The food arrived and Mai sat up in bed. Zuko pulled a chair close and they ate, both trying not to gobble everything down. Nearby in her bassinet, Miyako rested fitfully, tiny legs kicking. Zuko was transfixed by their daughter, sneaking glances at her every few seconds.

"We have a baby girl. How incredible is that?" He put a hand atop Mai's. "I'm so happy, Mai, and so terrified." Zuko gave her an admiring look. "I don't know how you did it, how any woman does. You were incredible. You _are_ incredible."

Her husband's words buoyed Mai and she felt a spark of life return. Leaning over she kissed his lips, tasting chicken and spices. They were so warm and she wanted to stay like that forever, she and Zuko, lips joined, heat seeping between their bodies. But that couldn't be so Mai pulled away, smiled at Zuko and finished her meal.

Everyone had told her that the pain would become a distant memory as soon as her child entered the world. _That_ Katara and Suki had been right about. Mai could hardly recall the agonizing sixteen hours of labour. She ached, yes, and predicted that walking about would not be easy for a few days. But that was a mere shadow of the pain she had experienced during labour. Funny how the mind could wash things away, good or bad, leaving holes where those experiences once resided; in this case, it was a good thing.

"I don't know how I did it either, Zuko." Mai shook her head. "Guess I had no choice."

~~~~0000~~~~

The rest of the afternoon, evening and night passed in a haze of interrupted sleep. Mai awoke after sunrise, Zuko already gone. She could hear him in the bath and suddenly the need to submerge her own body in cleansing hot water almost overwhelmed Mai. She eased herself out of the bed and checked on Miyako. Sensing her presence, the infant's eyes opened. Mother and daughter locked gazes, sizing each other up.

"Well," Mai began. "I thought you would never arrive." Reaching into the bassinet, Mai rested her hand on Miyako's tummy, rubbing gently. "But here you are." She lowered her voice. "We love you, Miyako, so much already, more than I could ever try to explain. Bear with me, all right. I'm new to all this."

Mai heard Zuko leave the bathroom and turned to face him. Naked but for a towel, he strode toward her, smiling dopily, high on new fatherhood.

"Did you want to take a bath? Will you be all right? I can call for the nurse or one of the servants."

"I'll manage. Just watch Miyako and maybe see about some breakfast."

Taking slow, measured steps, Mai managed the journey to the bathroom. She refilled the tub with scalding water and lowered herself with care, sighing once her body was immersed up to her shoulders. The heat felt wonderful and all her aches eased a bit. Resting her head against the edge of the huge tub she closed her eyes. Unbidden tears fell. Confused, Mai scrubbed her face, trying to get rid of whatever had upset her. Nothing seemed quite right and her mind was a labyrinth of jumbled thoughts and emotions.

"I'll feel better in a day or two," she told herself, hoping the words were prophetic. "Everything will be fine. It will."

She slid down the tub wall, dunking her head, blocking out all sound, trying to block out her dark thoughts. But she had to emerge eventually, and emerge she did, taking a huge gulp of air, breathing raggedly, her face dripping bathwater and tears once again.


	2. Sinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after Miyako's birth, Mai has fallen further.

**Chapter 2: Sinking**

"Ah, there is my sweet little grand niece; may I hold her, Mai, before she makes her debut in front of the people of Capitol City?" Iroh swooped into the suite of rooms shared by Mai and Zuko, focusing on the bassinet and seven day old Miyako. It took him a moment to really notice Mai. "Oh, you're not ready yet? But it's almost time for the ceremony."

Mai thought she heard a silent judgment in his voice. Why _wasn't_ she ready? It was almost midday. Miyako had cooperated by napping for two hours. She should be dressed in her finery, hair up, headpiece in, makeup on. But Mai still sat slumped in the room's most comfortable chair, her hair loose and un-brushed, her nightgown on, feet bare. Her body felt like an immoveable chunk of rock, heavy and lacking the grace she had once taken for granted.

"I'll get dressed now. I guess the morning got away from me."

"Well, that's understandable, being a new mother. You look tired, Mai, very tired. Is everything all right? Where's Zuko?"

"Tired, yes; Miya was up three times in the night. And I couldn't sleep anyway." She managed to meet Iroh's eyes, saw the concern and love there and wanted to break down into a weeping mess. But she held everything together and tried to recall where Zuko had gone. "Zuko, he um, oh, had a meeting with Aang and his councilmen." Mai shrugged. "Aang's here anyway so…."

Iroh nodded as he cradled the baby. "You go get yourself dressed. I'll watch Miyako. I have to steal as much time with her as I can. When I'm back in Ba Sing Se, I'll miss all of you terribly." He made a shooing motion then and Mai forced herself up and out of the chair, dragging herself to the bedroom and her dressing table.

"I look awful," she whispered to the looking glass.

Picking up her brush, the Fire Lady made short work of her hair before pulling a portion into a tidy top knot and inserting her headpiece. Her robes hung, clean and pressed, from the top of the wardrobe. Mai remembered now a servant bringing them earlier in the morning.

She wriggled out of her nightgown, leaving it on the floor, and began the slow process of putting on layer after layer, beginning with her bindings, forcing arms through sleeves, fumbling with ties, shoving feet into shoes. It seemed to take forever. She slumped back down in front of her mirror when she was done and examined her face. Her eyes looked dead and empty and Mai started, frightened by the sight.

"What is wrong with me?"

Fixing herself, making her face presentable for the masses, though she would be nothing but a dot on the dais to them, Mai tried to dispel dreary thoughts and focus on the upcoming celebration. She and Zuko had a darling baby girl, the heir to the throne, the next generation of Fire Lord, a life to cherish and be responsible for. They had waited these ten years for a reason, allowed themselves and their marriage time and space to grow and mature. They wanted to be ready for a child. And Mai _had_ been. All throughout her pregnancy, the anticipation was sweet and heady. But now, now…..it was all different.

Iroh knocked on the door, his cheerful voice penetrating the gloom that hung over Mai like a dense cloud.

"Miyako wants her mother; seems I won't do any longer."

A brief flash of resentment seized Mai. Why couldn't Miyako just let her be? Her need was suffocating. Guilt followed with alarming alacrity, making the woman's head spin.

"I'll be out in a moment," she managed to reply.

Mai took one final glance in the mirror. The reflection cast back at her was adequate. Turning slowly, she made her way to the door and pulled it open. Iroh greeted her, his round face beaming with pleasure, ignorant of the nest of snakes that had made their home inside Mai's head and heart.

"I'll take her." She indicated Miyako and held her arms out, ready to receive her daughter.

_Zuko, why aren't you here yet?_

Miyako fussed a bit before settling against Mai's chest, her wide gold eyes watching her mother with care. Mai stroked her head, smoothing down the unruly hair. The infant wore a tiny tunic in deep red with gold trim and leggings in the same deep red. She looked very much like a miniature Fire Lord and in that instant a surge of protectiveness traveled through Mai. No one would harm their daughter. She would have a good life, a happy life and she would be loved, always.

Zuko chose that moment to arrive, already dressed in his formal robes. He was smiling, and Mai could hear the echo of Aang's laughter. The two got along so well.

"Everyone's heading out to the plaza. Are you ready, Mai? Hi, Uncle!" He placed himself beside Mai, sliding an arm around her waist. "Both of you are so beautiful," Zuko said quietly.

"I'm _not_ ," Mai snapped. She witnessed the look that her husband and his uncle exchanged. It enraged her. "Let's go."

~~~~0000~~~~

Mai went through the motions. She smiled when she was supposed to, waved to the people gathered in the plaza to witness Miyako's naming ceremony, moved about the dais lithely, acknowledged their friends, there to meet the Fire Nation royal couple's first child, there to show support and love. They were good friends, all of them, and Mai spoke to each, accepted their gestures of affection. She was glad they were there for Zuko but wished they would leave her alone, wished she could hole up in her rooms until they were gone.

Everything she said seemed hollow, a weak copy of her true voice. All her words sounded strange to her ears and she wondered if anyone else noticed. She saw no indication in their eyes, nor any revulsion or disgust or concern. But Mai was more tired than she had ever been and where once she was sharp of mind and wit and perception, everything about her now seemed round and dull and stupid.

A dinner was planned, a quiet affair for their visitors, a celebration of friendship and birth and family. Mai could claim fatigue, every new mother's shield and armor. But then Katara would put on her own motherly cloak and check up on her, asking questions that Mai did not want to answer, not now at least. Better to just go and endure until they all went home again.

"That was beautiful," the water bender declared as they all trooped back toward the palace proper. "Miyako is a perfect name. It suits her." She smiled down at the baby before looking over at her own daughter, safe in Aang's arms.

"Yes," Mai agreed. She wondered about names then and whether the one you were gifted with or cursed with somehow affected your life.

"You never said anything about the birth or your first week as a mother, Mai. How was it? How are you handling things?" Katara put a hand on Mai's arm, encouraging the woman to make a confession.

"Fine, everything is fine."

"Well, that's not a lot of information. I remember my first week with Kya. I was so nervous and tired and worried about every little sound she made. It gets better."

"I'm fine," Mai repeated. "Zuko and Iroh are a big help and we've got a nurse." Perhaps that would shut Katara up.

Kya showed signs of restlessness and the water bender's attention was distracted at last. Miyako seemed to grow heavier by the minute. Mai shifted the infant in her arms and shut her eyes for just a moment, hoping that when she opened them, her rooms would be waiting and she could suffer in peace.

~~~~0000~~~~

As soon as she entered the suite of rooms, Mai fed Miyako, made certain that she was clean and then placed her in the bassinet. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on the bed, sweet smelling bedding surrounding her, a warm cocoon, and sleep, should that be possible.

"Look at the gifts," Zuko exclaimed. On the table a pile of presents for Miyako sat, colourfully wrapped, a cheerful centerpiece. "Do you want to open them?"

"Go ahead. I don't care."

"No, no, I'll wait until you're ready."

"That might be a long time. So _really_ , go ahead and open them."

Mai climbed on to the bed and tried to ignore the sound of rustling cloth and boxes being pried open. She tried to shrug off the weight of Zuko's worry. It seemed to sit on her chest crushing, smothering, making it difficult to breathe. She gasped for air, panic almost setting it.

Jumping up from his spot on the sofa, pushing aside stuffed animals and clothing, Zuko darted to the bed, pressing Mai to him, tangling his fingers in her raven hair. She pushed at his chest, wanting him and his comfort away from her, yet craving it all the same.

"What's wrong? What's wrong? Something's wrong, Mai. Tell me. Please."

The terror in her husband's voice cut through some of her own. But she couldn't tell him the truth. Mai couldn't put words to her horrible thoughts. She couldn't speak of her desire to just walk out the door and leave Miyako behind. How could she tell Zuko that Miyako's cries made her want to scream? How could she tell him that his wife was a monster, a bad mother, a woman who did not deserve a child so beautiful and so sweet, or any child at all?

She pressed fingers into her temples, fighting the throbbing pain that had begun during the naming ceremony.

"Nothing; I'm tired. That's all. I need sleep."

"That's it then; I'm calling the dinner off. I'll run you a bath. You can soak and relax and I'll get a servant to bring you something to eat. Then you can sleep, all right? Is that okay?"

He tried so hard sometimes. He loved her so much and his face, his whole body conveyed his concern and affection and devotion to Mai. It was difficult to say 'no'.

"No; the dinner is on. I don't want any fuss." Mai cupped Zuko's cheek, relishing the warm feel of his skin against hers. She tried on a smile. It didn't fit.

"Mai, you don't have to prove anything." His mouth worked for a minute, no words coming out. "They'll understand. They will."

She pulled back and crossed her arms over her chest. The conversation was over.

~~~~0000~~~~

Mai watched as Zuko napped. His brow was creased with worry; either a _dream_ disturbed his peace or daily life, his concern for her and Miyako, had invaded his sleep. She ran her index finger along his cheek, tracing the ragged outline of his scar. He twitched a bit but did not awaken and Mai envied his rest, no matter how imperfect it was. She could not sleep for anything, it seemed. Her mind, her body had become foreign to her. She could not predict how either would react to anything any longer. A war waged within Mai, more terrifying than any military conflict, any childhood trauma. All the control she prided herself on, the carefully honed casual indifference, had vanished. And Mai just wanted to get them back.

_Maybe this dinner will change things. Maybe I'll come up from under whatever is holding me down. Maybe if I talk with them, listen to their stupid jokes and their stories, maybe I'll be me again._

The hope was a faint one. Nearby, in her own tiny bed, Miyako was restless as well.

_I'll get up if she cries. She's fine. Don't want to move right now._

Burrowing into the pillows, Mai shut her eyes and waited.

~~~~0000~~~~

Jokes and stories and laughter abounded. Mai listened with as much attentiveness as she could muster, smiling on occasion and nodding her head, but contributing little to the conversation. But she'd never been a big talker, so no one noticed anything off. Toph was too busy drinking Sokka under the table to use her extraordinary powers of perception. Mai was safe.

On her left side, Zuko picked at his food. Every few seconds, he snuck his hand under the table, searching for Mai's, finding it and holding on, giving what support he could. On Mai's right side, Iroh directed curious and thoughtful looks her way. He encouraged her to eat, wanting his beloved nephew's beloved wife healthy and strong. Mai could see that the old man sensed something amiss. She was thankful that he did not pry, just loved.

"Mai, Zuko, I think I'll stay on for a few extra weeks. Would that be all right with you?" He pressed a hand down on Mai's shoulder, applying gentle pressure. "Could you use an old man around here? I'd love to help with Miyako all that I can."

Mai nodded her head. "Sure, we'll find something for you to do." Turning to face Iroh, she let her gratitude shine in pale gold eyes. It was an effort, but worth it to see Iroh's own eyes, like bottomless pools of amber whiskey, light up.

"Whatever you and Mai want is fine with me, Uncle. We don't see enough of you, so I'd love for you to stay."

"Good, good. I'll send a hawk to Ping. The Jasmine Dragon is his for awhile yet." Iroh chuckled, a musical sound that lightened Mai's heart for just a moment. "He loves to be in charge."

All around Mai, happy voices, normal voices rang out, faces gleamed with joy and humour. She could not join in, not really. And despite the presence of Zuko, the presence of Iroh and all her friends, Mai had never been more alone.


	3. Desolation

**Chapter 3: Desolation**

She could hear them talking, Iroh and Zuko. The words were muffled but Mai knew their conversation was about her. They had tiptoed around her 'condition' using phrases like 'out of sorts', 'not like herself', 'not what I expected'. They were 'worried', 'upset', 'concerned' and felt 'helpless'. The new mother supposed her unwillingness to discuss what she was feeling contributed to that helplessness. She was close mouthed and trapped in her own world of misery. Right now, Mai could not put words to her pain. Somehow a curtain of darkness had been drawn over her life, her mind, her spirit, her body too, and she could not pull it open to reveal the light. She could not do it, no matter how hard she tried. And the effort sapped her dry, like desert sand sucking down any moisture, greedy, hungry.

Mai wondered what was worse; suffering through whatever had taken hold of her or watching someone else do the suffering. Zuko had been hurt before, badly. During the early years of his leadership, several attempts were made on his life. Most were deflected, but two almost did the job. One, a poisoning, had been particularly painful and close and Mai recalled being beside herself with worry and terror. Zuko had writhed and twisted about in the bed, his body drenched, his breathing a horror, stopping completely a few times. Somehow, Zuko liked to say it was because Mai sat by his side, holding his hand, whispering words of love and encouragement, he made it through. The toll on his body had been great and it took weeks to recover. The memory of that time was potent still and she shivered recalling it. Mai wondered if Zuko felt now as she had then, consumed by worry, eaten up inside by anxiety.

If he did, she sympathized. But none of that helped her now either.

The door opened then, the one separating Zuko's office from the rest of the suite of rooms. The Fire Lord approached Mai, trying his best, she could see, to keep all expression from his face. But that was Mai's territory, not Zuko's, and bits of stress poked through, then more and finally, he gave up. He stopped beside Miyako's bassinet, trying to calm the infant who had begun to cry earlier. His voice alone didn't work so he picked her up and rocked her back and forth in his arms.

"Mai, um, Iroh and I were talking and….."

She pressed her lips together tight and waited for whatever fate might befall her.

"We think the palace physician should examine you. Are you all right with that?"

"It can't hurt, Mai," Iroh added softly. He padded over to her chair and patted Mai's arm. "Something is going on with you. We just want to help."

Anger flashed through her, hot and quick. "Don't talk about me behind closed doors like I'm crazy or something." She shrugged off Iroh's hand. "And don't touch me."

Iroh flinched. Miyako began to wail.

"Make her stop," she pleaded then, covering her ears.

Zuko rocked the baby harder, his gaze darting back and forth between her and Mai. She quieted, content again in her father's arms and Mai felt jealousy needle her brain.

_He can comfort Miyako. He wants to. I just want the noise to go away. She'll love him better. She'll hate me. She'll hate her mother and I'm too tired to do anything about it._

"Mai, we don't think you're crazy. But we are worried sick about you. And we want to help. Let the physician see you. It's a place to start."

She saw the sense in Iroh's words. Finally, she gave a curt nod. "Bring Miya to me. She must be hungry."

"Are you sure?" the Fire Lord asked.

"Well, who else is going to feed her? Or have you hired a wet nurse behind my back too?"

"No, no, it's just, you seem…" He left the rest unsaid, words failing him as they so often did. Giving Miyako's forehead a kiss first, Zuko put the infant in Mai's arms. "There."

"I'll go rustle up Mr. Kita. Would this afternoon be all right, Mai?"

She shrugged, busy already with the business of feeding her daughter. "Whatever." She knew he would find nothing. Mai knew that whatever ailed her was invisible, sneaky and had burrowed its way into her heart and mind and spirit, tainting them.

Iroh left and Mai and Zuko were alone except for their daughter. Neither was certain what to say. But that was nothing new. Their best communication had never been through words, but through touch rather, looks and gestures. Zuko walked around Mai and stood to her right and slightly behind. Putting one hand on her shoulder, no pressure, a soft touch, he stared down at Miyako, watched her nursing, and smiled. Mai felt not only the touch, but the support behind it, the solidarity, the love. He would stick with her through this dark time, no matter what, no matter how much darker it got.

~~~~0000~~~~

As promised, Doctor Kita arrived promptly after a lunch that Mai picked at with distaste. The savory vegetable dish was one of her favorites, but today she could not stomach the smell or the taste.

"They can make you something else, Mai. Do you want me….." Zuko pleaded with his eyes.

"No," she interrupted. "I can get a snack later if I'm hungry." She wouldn't be.

The nurse had Miyako. They'd gone out into the garden for some fresh air and sunshine. She would lay the baby out on a blanket and let her see what she could see, feel the wind in her hair, on her tender skin.

_It's better than being here with me, the way I am now._

"You should eat," the physician declared as he made his way over to Mai, Zuko hovering close behind.

Kita was an efficient man, prone to a disregard of females. Perhaps it wasn't disregard so much as a lack of understanding. Whatever the case, his tone was condescending and Mai found herself grinding her teeth and resisting the urge to slap him. She made a mental note to see about getting a new, more modern physician for the palace, someone who hadn't been around since the dawn of time. Of course, he had experience, if nothing else. Maybe she'd best hear what he had to say first.

"What symptoms are you experiencing, Lady Mai?"

He picked up her hand, letting it dangle from his grip, one finger on the pulse that throbbed in her wrist.

"I'm tired," she said. Her voice held no sarcasm, no bite. It sounded weary and dead. "I have a lot of headaches. Sometimes it's hard to breathe and my chest aches. Mostly I can't sleep, but that's all I want to do." She wished to say that an overwhelming sadness held her in its grip, that most of the time, she wanted nothing to do with her child, that she was listless and felt as though she were fighting her way through a veil of gauzy fabric that limited the acuity of her senses. Mai held back. She would say none of those things. Then she caught Zuko's eye and felt almost ashamed. She'd told him nothing of what she'd mentioned to the doctor, only spoke of feeling exhausted. He blinked rapidly and tilted his head, examining his wife, trying to make sense of her secrecy. Mai looked away, down at her lap.

"Sit up straight please, away from the pillows, and put your back to me." Mai did as she was told. Kita placed his ear against her back and directed her to take several slow, deep breaths. "Your breathing sounds fine. Now I want to listen to your heart." Mai turned about again, and faced the doctor. He listened carefully, shaking his head. "Everything sounds good." She waited for him to say that it was all her imagination, some hysterical female reaction to giving birth. Luckily for him, he did not. Zuko would not have stood for that. And Mai, even with her lack of energy, would have found some way to put the man in his place.

"Everything sounds good," Zuko repeated. "Then what's wrong with my wife? There's something wrong." He moved forward and took Mai's hand. "She's in agony. Can't you see that?"

"I see a woman who needs sleep and good food and perhaps a bit of time every day for herself, time for a walk or a long bath or to read. Make sure she gets those things and I'm certain you'll see improvement. I can have a sleeping powder made up. It will knock you out, my lady. You _will_ sleep."

" _No_ ; I don't want any powders." So much was out of her control. She would not permit her body some falsely induced slumber. The idea frightened her, especially now.

"Ah, then perhaps General Iroh can recommend a tea that might help you sleep a bit better. And please make sure to eat. You're feeding the baby as well, remember."

Guilt made the woman flush. And Mai was certain that was Kita's intention, to make her feel guilty, maybe snap her out of whatever funk he figured she might be in. But it would not be that easy.

"I'll eat," she stated.

Mai was relieved when Kita left their rooms and went back to his office, the Fire Lord accompanying him as far as the door. She beckoned Zuko closer and he came, hand outstretched. Mai took it. His face bore a relieved look, but he was scared too. Mai could see it in the way he held himself. Physically she was fine. What did that leave?

"I'll go to the kitchen and make you up a tray, all right…nothing spicy. And tea, I'll make tea."

He needed to be doing something, anything to help, so Mai nodded and she would eat what he brought and drink the tea and hope that something inside might change.

~~~~0000~~~~

She did feel better for eating, physically better, and decided to find Miyako and the nurse in the gardens. Zuko joined Mai, his arm linked through hers, silent, watchful, ready to jump in and rescue his wife. His need to protect was palpable.

As they approached the middle aged woman sitting on the bench, two week old Miyako on her lap, Mai stopped abruptly. Zuko looked at her, a slew of questions in his eyes. She shrugged and chewed on her lower lip.

"Miyako looks happy. Maybe I should just….."

"Mai, she's your daughter, our daughter; no one can love her like we do." He stepped in front of Mai, put one hand on each of her shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. "You're a good mother. Whatever you're going through does not diminish that truth."

"I don't feel like a good mother. Sometime I just wish she would disappear. How terrible is that? What mother feels that for her newborn daughter? What's happened to me?" Mai's lip quivered and she bit down on it again. Tears pooled in her eyes. She squeezed them shut and forced the moisture back.

No answer was forthcoming. Mai knew that. All Zuko could do was take her in his arms, hold her as tight as he dared, let all his love seep from him into her.

"Let's get Miyako," the Fire Lord suggested when he finally broke the embrace. "She needs her mother and father."

The nurse chatted about what a sweet baby Miyako was, every sneeze, gurgle and burp. She handed Miyako to Mai, giving the younger woman a warm smile and a lingering look. Mai wondered if she was imagining things, but the nurse seemed to sense her unease, her sorrow, her confusion. Was she telegraphing her emotions for once in her life or was the nurse just more intuitive than most? Mai hoped the latter option was true.

"It gets better," the nurse whispered. "You just have to tough it out." She made to leave but thought better of it. "And please, ask for help if you need it." Gesturing at Zuko, she added, "You have lots of support, maybe more than you think."

Mai lifted her thin eyebrows, taken aback by the woman's brazenness. She said nothing but nodded an acknowledgment of the words.

"What did she say?" Zuko asked when the nurse as out of sight.

"Nothing really," Mai shrugged, dismissing the question.

But the nurse's words remained with her for the rest of the day and they gave her hope.

~~~~0000~~~~

Iroh put down the tray with a flourish before plopping on to a chair across from Mai and Zuko.

"Tea made from valerian root; it promotes sleep, helps the body relax. You're both going to have a cup and head off to bed." His look dared them to disobey.

"I'll try anything but one of Kita's drugs." Mai poured a cup for Zuko and herself. "Don't you want any, Iroh?"

"I sleep like the dead _without_ tea," he chuckled. "Now drink up." He supervised, like they were little children, a smirk on his face. "Good, good; now I'll leave you to it." Iroh took Mai's hand in both of his. "I'm here to help in any way that I can. Don't forget that."

"I won't."

It seemed there was help to be had, kindness in abundance, but would any of that be enough?


	4. Opening Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai's mother and brother both show up for a visit and Mai opens up, first to Iroh, then to Zuko.

**Chapter 4: Opening Up**

"Just thought I'd warn you," Tom-Tom declared, breathless from running. "Mom's on her way. And she's a little bit angry you haven't wanted her around."

At fourteen, Mai's brother was tall and lanky, a cheerful, well adjusted boy, eager to please and quick to love.

"And you didn't stop her? I can't handle her, Tom-Tom...not now. She'll ask too many questions. She'll…"

"Hey, take it easy, sis. I'll stay here with you." He pulled her in for a hug. "Mom's in one of her determined moods. Nothing could stop her but death." Letting go, he looked about the room. Miyako lay on the floor, a soft blanket beneath her, hands and feet in the air, grasping and kicking. She was a beautiful baby and Mai could see affection for her swell in Tom-Tom. He picked her up, holding her like an expert, placing kisses on her face with unabashed enthusiasm. "I love this kid," he proclaimed with pride.

Tom-Tom was a good brother. Mai recalled his birth, how she had hated and loved his presence, resented him and embraced him both. Now, she wouldn't trade the boy for anything. He was a positive force in her life and a real joy.

Mai laughed, though it sounded more like a harsh bark. "I think she's attached to you too. Tom, could you see about tea and something to eat? Mother will complain if I'm not the perfect host. And Zuko will have a fit if I don't eat."

"Okay; do you want Miya back on the blanket?"

"No, I'll take her."

She was fed and clean and content and lay in Mai's arms without protest, a smile on her face, her one dimple revealing itself. Mai smiled back and stroked her cheeks, running a finger across her lips.

"I love you too," she whispered. "I'll bet it doesn't seem like it sometimes. I'm having a hard time and I don't know why." Mai kissed her daughter's forehead. "I'll make it right, though. I'm trying, Miya. I'm trying so hard."

"You look distraught, Mai. What's the matter? Is there something wrong with the baby?"

She hadn't heard her mother enter the room. Her lack of awareness angered Mai. And her mother's presumption did as well. They weren't close enough for that kind of access, for the woman to walk straight into Mai's and Zuko's rooms without knocking or giving some kind of indication that she was there.

"I don't recall hearing a knock."

"That's because I didn't. I'm your mother, for Agni's sake. Aren't we beyond that?"

"When did that happen?"

Akira huffed, smoothing down her robes and then her hair. She was dressed impeccably in the latest style, nothing out of place. An attractive woman, Akira had been taught to make the most of her appearance, to enhance it with makeup and fine clothes and jewellery. And she'd taken to her training like a young bird takes to flight. Her graying brown hair was upswept, gold dangled from her ears, nails were painted a soft red, the lines on her pretty face disguised as much as was possible. She looked good. But with a swiftness that startled Mai, the daughter saw the mother in a merciless light, saw her as an aging woman, saw her cracks and flaws in plain relief. Mai was _now_ what her mother was _then_. Time played those tricks on everyone, changed roles, took away power. Mai had no reason to be upset by Akira. The daughter was in control now. _She_ had the power.

"Clearly, you're still out of sorts. I'm not here to argue. I'm here to see my granddaughter. It's almost as though you've been keeping me from her." The woman waited for Mai to dispute her words. She said nothing. "I can take her for a few hours, you know, if you're tired." The offer was a genuine one. Mai could hear that.

"We have a nurse." Akira's face looked as though Mai had reached across the room and smacked it. The younger woman felt bad suddenly and softened her words. Compassion and kindness were never bad things. Her power must be wielded well, though old habits were hard to break free of. "But maybe sometime, if you want. That would be a help."

"All right then, good; may I hold her?" Akira moved closer and reached her arms out.

Mai nodded, relinquishing Miyako. Part of her felt as though she'd rid herself of a burden and then guilt stabbed her hard, one of her own darts through the heart. She watched as her mother spoke to the infant in quiet tones, her features softened by the genuine smile she wore. It reminded Mai of Tom-Tom's infancy, how her mother took to the boy as she had never taken to Mai. Of course, Mai could not recall the first months of her life, how much or how little Akira had cared. But her toddlerhood and childhood were replete with rejection rather than acceptance, coldness rather than warmth, disappointment rather than pride. No matter what her mother might do now, how good she might be with Miyako, how much Tom loved her, Mai would not forget.

"She's grown so much in four weeks. Before we know it, little Miya will be walking."

_And maybe by then I'll be_ _**me** _ _once more._

"Let's not rush things, Mother."

"No, you're right. But it does go by quickly. I look at your brother and gasp sometimes. How did he get to be fourteen years old? He's nearly a man."

It was Mai's turn to soften her expression. "He's a good kid, a good brother. You did something right with _him_." The words emerged before she could retrieve them. Harmless on their own, it was all about emphasis and the unspoken implication that Akira had done _nothing_ right with Mai.

Akira pressed her lips together tight and jutted her chin out. She held her tongue, however. Did she realize something about her daughter's state of mind? Had she recently learned that sometimes saying nothing is better? Or was she simply too angry and hurt to think of a suitable response? Mai didn't care. But she was glad Akira had not mounted an attack. She lacked the energy to retaliate with her usual sharpness.

Tom-Tom eased the tension when he rejoined them. The teenager set a heavy tray down. "No fighting," he ordered good-naturedly. "Mom, would you like some tea?" He poured for Mai first, handing his sister the cup.

"Yes, dear; thank you."

He poured again before edging the tray toward Mai. "Eat."

"Yes, master."

Mai reached for a sandwich. She nibbled its edges and fought the urge to spit it back out. It felt like paste in her mouth. A swig of tea forced the offending bits down her throat. When Tom's attention was distracted, Mai snuck the partially eaten sandwich back onto the dish. She felt like a small child trying to pull something over on one of her parents.

Akira had no problem finishing her sandwich and reached for a second without hesitation. "These are wonderful. I didn't realize how hungry I was."

Miyako wriggled about on the sofa and Tom-Tom put a hand on her tummy to steady her. "Don't want you falling off, do we, Miya?"

"Mai and I were talking about me taking Miya for a few hours here and there. Won't that be lovely, Tom-Tom?" She narrowed her eyes then as though something had just occurred to her. "Wait a minute; why are you here? There's school today. I watched you leave this morning."

"Oh, that; yeah, well, I decided visiting Mai and Miyako was more important." He shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

"We'll get a letter. I hate those letters." She let out an exasperated rush of air. "Really, Tom-Tom, I thought better of you. Wait, did you come here to visit or to warn Mai about me?" The boy fidgeted with the black sash of his school uniform and would not meet his mother's eyes. "Am I that bad? You have to warn your sister that I'm coming?"

"Look," he blurted. "Mai's, she's not well, I mean, she's having a bad time right now and I thought that maybe she'd want to prepare herself a bit for your visit. You and Mai don't exactly get along. And she doesn't need the stress. It's not good for her or the baby."

_He sounds so mature, like a grownup and so protective._

Mai's love for her brother had never been stronger than at that moment.

"Oh, so you're a physician now? And when did that happen? I guess your father and I missed it." Getting up from her seat, Akira gave Tom-Tom a withering look before turning her attention to Mai. " _You_ can deal with him for the rest of the day." She bent down to kiss Miyako before striding across the floor and closing the door with a bang. Perhaps the import of her son's words would hit her later. Mai was grateful that Akira hadn't questioned her more about this 'bad time'.

"Guess I screwed up." Tom-Tom threw himself against the back of the sofa. "I'm sorry, Mai. I just wanted to….." He slammed a hand against his forehead. "I'm such an idiot."

"I know." Mai giggled for the first time since Miyako's birth. "You remind me of Zuko right now."

"You laughed."

"I did."

"That's a good thing."

"It is. Thank you, Tom. You're welcome to stay in the palace. But I need a nap right now and Miya is going to need a feeding soon."

He took the hint and stood up, bringing the baby to Mai. "I'll go find Zuko or Iroh. You sleep."

Mai grabbed his hand and held it for a moment. "Mother doesn't handle initiative or disobedience very well. But she'll get over it."

"I'm not worried, Mai, not about _that_."

And then Tom-Tom was gone, his words echoing in her mind. It seemed that everyone was worried about her. Mai was more worried than all of them put together. She was the only one who knew the full extent of her depression, the terrible depths of her despair. Maybe it was time to let someone else know. Mai felt ready, or as ready as she would ever be.

~~~~0000~~~~

When the nurse arrived later in the afternoon, Mai slipped away from her rooms and went in search of Iroh. Swamped with duties, Zuko would be occupied until dinner time. She found the general turned tea maker and businessman sitting by a window in the library.

"Mai! Is this a happy coincidence or were you looking for me?"

"It's one of my favorite spots." That was true before. But she hadn't given the library or books or the view of the garden any thought for weeks. She hoped that would change soon too. Mai wanted and needed some semblance of normality back in her life, _her_ normal, the normal she shared with Zuko and the new normal they needed to create with Miyako. "But I _was_ looking for you."

"I'm flattered. What can I do to help, my dear?" Iroh shifted over a bit so there was room on the window seat for Mai.

She sat, adjusting her robes, taking her time, gathering up the tangled threads of her thoughts, trying to make a coherent whole of them. Both stared outside, watching the waning sun fight its way through thick foliage, dappling the grass below. The chatter of birds and the hum of cicadas were constant and soothing. Mai felt the urge to sleep again. She pushed it aside. "I need to talk. And Zuko, he, he'll get too upset. You're calmer and I need that right now." Iroh nodded, giving her permission to continue. "I'm scared." Her voice broke and Mai pressed a hand to her mouth.

"I know," he acknowledged, patting her free hand. The old man gave Mai an encouraging smile. "Take your time; I've got all day."

"I don't think I love Miyako like I'm supposed to." That was difficult to voice aloud. "I worry that I never will. I worry that I'm bad. I worry that Zuko will come to despise me." Mai took a huge breath before continuing. "My rational mind says all that is nonsense. But you can see that I'm not like most new mothers, can't you?"

"Hmmm…." Iroh stroked his long, grey beard. "I've not met many new mothers. My wife, she died soon after Lu Ten was born. She only held him once." Mai watched emotions dance their way across the old man's face. Though his grief had been tempered by time, it had never gone away, not entirely. "Ursa, she was overjoyed when Zuko was born. He was a bright spot in an otherwise troubled life." He shrugged then before shaking his head. "But every person is different, Mai, every woman, every experience. I know you want some sort of guideline to measure yourself against. But I'm not sure I can give that to you." He held her hand now and the warmth of his skin comforted Mai. "I wish there was a label we could use, something for you to hold on to. I wish I knew other women who feel as you do right now. I'm certain they're out there."

"I wish that too. I'm so sad and so tired and all I really want to do is stay in bed forever. But I don't sleep well and I ache and I get angry and sometimes I resent Miyako so much. She's my daughter, my baby and sometimes I wish she would disappear." Once the tears began, Mai could not stop them. They fell down her cheeks and off her chin, dripping onto her scarlet robes, making a dark patch.

Iroh took her in his arms and held her. He said nothing, just let her weep. She sobbed into his chest until whatever well tears sprung from dried up. Shuddering, she pulled out of his embrace.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. Mai felt exposed and raw, the opposite of her usual composed and reticent self, like someone who had changed outfits after wearing the same one for years. This new one did not fit well.

"Don't be sorry, Mai. It's good to cry."

"What am I going to do? What if I never get better?"

"Look at all the changes your body went through while you were pregnant. I'll bet we don't know half of what goes on inside. Perhaps, after you had Miyako, your body didn't return to its regular state. Maybe it takes some women longer. Maybe your body and your mind still have some adjustments to make. Be patient. Zuko and I are here to help. And no one thinks you're crazy. And we know you love Miyako. Despite those feelings, you wanted her and you want her now. I can see that."

"Really? You can?" She sounded so vulnerable and childlike, so dependent on Iroh's reassurance.

"Yes, Mai, I can. I don't say what it isn't true."

She _half_ believed him. And that was better than not believing at all.

"No, I don't suppose that you do."

"Have I helped, even a tiny bit?"

"I'm not sure right now, honestly. But I don't feel worse."

"Mai, I think you should talk to Zuko." Iroh lifted a finger, halting her protest. "Give him a chance to help or a chance to listen at least." She nodded while looking reluctant. "I have an idea that I'm going to pursue."

"What idea is that?" Iroh struggled for a moment, torn between telling and not telling. "I'm going to write to Katara and some other people I know, see if they've encountered your symptoms before."

Mai felt a surge of hope then a surge of fear. What if Katara had encountered something similar before? What if these other people had? There might be hundreds, thousands of women like Mai. Or, what if none of them had ever met anyone like Mai, had never heard of a case like hers? She might be completely alone. And what was more terrifying than that?

~~~~0000~~~~

Miyako fussed at bedtime. She squirmed in Mai's arms as though getting free was all she wanted. Frustrated, Mai passed her over to Zuko.

"I don't know what's wrong with her. I've tried everything."

Zuko had no luck either and decided to simply put Miyako down in her bassinet, crying or not. All her needs had been met. She'd been held and kissed and sung to. Slightly embarrassed, Zuko had rasped some old lullaby dredged from the depths of his memory. It had only made the infant cry harder.

"She'll fall asleep eventually; she has to."

Both of them hated the sound of her crying, the sound itself and whatever her wails might represent. Their inability to soothe made each feel like a failure. The idea that neither Daddy nor Mommy could always make things right was a blow to each, though Mai already felt insecure when it came to their daughter.

"I guess," Mai shrugged. She imagined Miyako crying forever and ever, the ceaseless sound of her screams echoing throughout the palace. Mai's mind took her to dark places these days, far darker than any she had visited before, even during her most trying times; Zuko's banishment, the Boiling Rock.

"She will." Zuko sounded more confident.

He hugged her from behind, arms encircling her waist, placing gentle kisses on her neck. It felt good and Mai pressed her body tight against his.

"I had a talk with Iroh today."

"Oh?"

"It helped, a bit, I think. He's going to ask around, write to some people he knows, about my…." A laugh escaped, brief and bitter….."peculiar situation."

"Katara?"

"She's one of them, yeah."

"Good, that's good." He cleared his throat before resting his chin on her shoulder. "You can talk to _me_."

"Yeah, I know." She savored the feel of his breath on her skin. "You won't hate me, will you, no matter what I say?"

"Never." Zuko turned his wife about so that he could stare into her eyes. " **Never** ," he repeated. "Tell me everything."

Mai led him to the bed, pushing him down gently before curling up behind him. She wasn't brave enough to watch his face while she talked. She feared what might show in those eyes of his, the most expressive eyes she had ever seen; the most beautiful too.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her voice muffled against the solid wall of his back.

"I'm ready." Zuko's voice was sure and steady and Mai took comfort in that.

And then she began.


	5. Escapism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai finds escape from her troubles. But it is short lived.

**Chapter 5: Escapism**

'That's quite a pile of letters," Mai remarked.

She tucked pale hands inside deep red sleeves and looked over Iroh's shoulder as he signed the final one. He'd been true to his word and began composing them the morning after he and Mai talked.

"Everyone I could think of," the old man replied. "Certain members of the Order are involved in healing or know those who are. And Katara's is right here." Iroh patted the top of the stack. "I'll send them off personally. Would you like to take a walk with me, up to the messenger hawk tower?"

Just the thought wearied Mai. "No," she answered while shaking her head.

Mai had her own plans, plans that involved her knives and the training room. Since Miyako's birth, she hadn't touched any of her weapons. Worse, she'd given them little thought. Perhaps the act of throwing her blades, losing herself like she used to in the aim and throw, aim and throw, might prove therapeutic. It couldn't hurt.

It seemed Iroh had his own theories. "I've had another idea, Mai." He shot her a sly look. "I'm just full of them, aren't I?"

"Seems so."

"I've found that meditation, when done properly, and that takes some time to learn, can be remarkably beneficial. I'm more than willing to teach you, Mai. An hour or so every day, you pick the time, spent cleansing your mind cannot but do good. Trust me on this one; after Lu Ten's death, it helped me more than I can say."

"Oh, I don't know, Iroh. I'm not really much for that kind of thing."

"I think you should explore _every_ possibility, don't you?"

That sounded a bit like pushing and Mai balked. But Iroh's insistence came from a good place. And what harm could meditation do? Zuko practiced the art, though not with as much devotion as Iroh. And she had witnessed Zuko's mood change after a session, seen anger and bitterness replaced by calm and acceptance. Calm she was all right with. But she would not accept this condition of hers, not as a permanent part of her. It was a temporary state, something she would fight her way out of even if she almost died doing that. Too bad she had such little energy for fighting.

"I suppose….yes; when do you want to start?"

"How about tomorrow?"

"After lunch, when Miyako's napping; the nurse will watch her."

"It's a date." He smiled broadly and sprang up from his seat, still quick and fit at his advanced age. "Where are you off to now?"

"I plan to get reacquainted with something I've been missing. It's been far too long."

~~~~0000~~~~

In her private training room, a gift from Zuko what seemed like eons ago, Mai slipped out of the bulky and heavy robes she wore as Fire Lady. A supply of training clothes, knee length pants, comfortable with a drawstring, and sleeveless shirts was stacked in a small cupboard built into the wall. She changed quickly and was glad to see the piles of red and gold on the floor rather than on her slender frame. The training clothes were black and lightweight, a pleasure to wear and to move in. But they were good for training only. No wide sleeves hid her dart launchers and no loose, wide legged pants hid the knives at her ankles and thighs.

"My days of fighting are over anyway," she murmured. "This is just for pleasure now and to keep in shape."

She certainly hoped that the days of assassination attempts were long gone. While she enjoyed the danger and the thrill of a fight, Zuko's safety was infinitely more valuable. And now there was Miyako to consider. But Zuko was the leader of a nation still hated by many. Some people bore grudges a lifetime and were willing to wait and wait _more_ until an opportunity to exact revenge came. Mai and Zuko could never relax fully. And Mai never wanted to lose her skill.

Besides, throwing knives was more than a hobby for her. Once upon a time, it had saved her life, given her purpose and focus, given her something of her own; her self esteem improved along with her precision. Whether she threw to stop an enemy or to hit a target hung on the wall of her training room didn't matter. Her blades, her darts, her throwing, were a part of her. Though she wasn't born a knife thrower like Zuko had been born a firebender, and while she had no internal flame she could call up at will, Mai's skill, hard won and the result of years of practice, was no less integral to her being.

Not throwing, not even wearing her blades since the birth of her daughter was a terrible indication of her mental and emotional upheaval. Mai wasn't sure how she would do or how long she would last. But she needed to pick up that which she had dropped, retrieve what she had lost in order to get better; _that_ Mai was convinced of.

With her complete arsenal strapped on, Mai paced about the room, getting accustomed to the weight and the feel of the weapons. She felt strange at first, but that wore off and then the comfort she got from her weapons, the sense of self, came back and a small smile tugged diligently at her lips.

"Feels right," she spoke aloud, aimed and threw.

She missed and missed again and then again. Her body felt sluggish and slow, her arm and wrist weak. But Mai persisted. She threw until perspiration rose on her forehead like drops of dew and her training clothes were damp. And by the time Mai had exhausted herself, her throws were true, hitting the center of the target.

Exhausted, she dropped to a cushion and spread her body out, one arm shading her eyes from the light that poured in through the room's single window. Her mind went blank and she truly rested for the first time in weeks. Physical fatigue from exercise calmed the brain like almost nothing else. And soon she was asleep.

~~~~0000~~~~

Zuko found her there two hours later. He gave her a gentle shake and she stumbled up from slumber, groggy and irritated.

"What?" she snapped.

"It's me." Zuko knelt in front of her, taking her face in his hands. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I trained until I dropped."

"Good, good, I'm glad."

And Mai could see in his eyes how pleased her husband was.

_He understands what my knives, my throwing mean to me. He knows it's a part of who I am._

And she was grateful.

"I was terrible. But then I got better." She stood up and stretched and felt a pleasant ache in her muscles.

"You never forget a skill."

"No; did I worry you?"

"You didn't tell anyone where you were. It's a big palace." No hint of accusation coloured his voice. He restrained himself for her sake.

"You can get angry at me. It's all right. I won't break." Zuko hesitated. "Please, don't tiptoe around me; that only makes me feel stranger."

"I was worried, yeah. And Miyako's hungry. She's screaming. I looked for you everywhere, Mai. Next time, tell someone. If something happened to you…"

The worry and confusion on her husband's face were chastisement worse than any Mai's mother had ever directed at her. She hung her head for a moment, the joy of throwing and the bliss of sleep both gone from her.

"It won't happen again. I'm sorry, Zuko."

She started to walk away, back to their daughter, their rooms, what felt like her prison. But Zuko grabbed hold of her elbow.

"Wait, I'll walk with you." He bent down and picked up her forgotten robes, a job for the servants perhaps, but that did not matter.

Mai waited. She watched as Zuko folded the robes over one arm and with his free hand took hers. His skin was warm, like always, a wonderful constant in her life. Her hand was cold in comparison. She sighed softly as he rubbed at the tiny scars on her palm and fingers, scars he had traced and kissed and knew as intimately as his own. Something stirred inside, not desire exactly, but the need to be held. She moved closer to Zuko, walked so that their bodies touched. He understood and letting go of her hand, put his arm around her waist, drawing her close. Mai relaxed against her husband, allowed herself to sink into his heat and his love. It gave her hope.

Back in their rooms, while Mai fed Miyako, Zuko sent for tea and something light to eat. "You worked out pretty hard," he reminded her.

The baby settled in her crib, a rattle clasped tight in tiny fingers, Zuko and Mai ate and drank. She felt his eyes on her sometimes, when her own gaze drifted away, felt his concern like a wonderful weight. She told him about the meditation.

"It could help. I think it will. And Iroh is such a good teacher." He smiled ruefully. "Too bad I didn't realize that a lot earlier."

"You were an angry kid, angry and hurt and cast aside. No one blames you."

"I was a jerk too."

Mai did not refute his words. They were true enough.

"We're starting tomorrow." She didn't want to put too much faith into the healing properties of meditation but a bit of excitement twisted up her stomach anyway.

Zuko nodded, finished his tea and rose from the sofa. "I've got an hour's worth of paperwork, okay? Then I'll be back. Maybe we can take Miya for a walk in the garden. Is that all right with you?"

Most of her preferred the idea of sleep. But part of Mai leapt at the suggestion. "Sure; I'd like that."

He gave her a kiss. His lips lingered against hers, reluctant to leave. "Later then."

"Later," she repeated.

~~~~0000~~~~

Afternoon gave way to evening as they walked. Summer was giving way to autumn as well and the breeze had more of a bite. Zuko cradled Miyako in one strong arm, against his chest. The tiny girl who seemed to grow larger every day wore a long sleeved tunic and leggings along with slippers to keep her feet warm. The wind toyed with her black hair, blowing it into her eyes. It must have tickled because Miyako smiled. She was too young yet to laugh but Mai found herself looking forward to the days ahead when she could.

"Are you all right? You're not tired, are you?"

It seemed he was always asking her if she was all right, like she might shatter or explode or disappear completely into herself at any time.

"I am, but I want to keep going."

Moving forward, one foot after the other; thinking ahead to what she hoped would be better days. Mai knew she had to persevere, continue to fight or be lost forever. And for her right now, going for a walk with her husband and daughter amounted to battling for her life.

"There's our tree." Zuko pointed to the apple tree of their youthful days together. He grinned and for a moment was lost in his memories.

"It's the best tree."

"Yeah, it is."

The bark was scarred much like both of them. Yet the tree continued to flourish. Apples dangled from its branches, red and enticing. Large roots sprawled beneath the grass and soil, spreading further and further as the need for water grew along with the tree.

"Do you think it will be around when Miyako's grown up?"

Zuko did not hesitate. "I'm sure of it."

That thought, the idea of such continuity, eased Mai's troubled mind and heart. This time _she_ reached for Zuko's hand, holding it loosely. He answered with a light squeeze and Mai knew that her thoughts had been conveyed without the use of words. Now, more than ever, words and talking were difficult for her. The silent communications she shared with her husband was a blessing.

They finished their walk in quiet. Only Miyako's occasional gurgle, the wind in the leaves, birdsong and the soft sound of their footfalls broke that quiet. As they walked it was almost possible for Mai to believe all was as it should be.

But later, as she tossed in the bed she and Zuko shared, moving closer to his body, then further away, then molding her frame to his, all her doubts and all her sadness loomed, vivid and giant, like childhood nightmares.

She clung to Zuko for dear life.

~~~~0000 ~~~~

The following day, Mai did something unexpected. She sent a note to her mother, asking if she would like to watch Miyako for a few hours in the afternoon. Her motivation was muddled; guilt, a desire to make things better between her and Akira, the nasty cold the nurse had come down with.

Akira replied immediately, sending word that she would like nothing better than to spend time with her granddaughter.

"She's not going to, I don't know…undermine us or something?"

Mai gave Zuko a shrug. "I don't think so. And Miyako's only five weeks old. I don't think there's anything to undermine."

Despite ten years of marriage to their daughter, two years of engagement before that, Zuko's relationship with Mai's parents was distant; polite, but cool. It mirrored Mai's own bond with Akira and Hoshi. Perhaps that was her fault. His perception of them was coloured by her words over the years, her childhood recollections. And Zuko remembered those times when she was small and he was small and she would do her best to hide her anger or sadness. With him Mai let her mask slip a bit and he was allowed to see what she was really feeling, things that neither Azula nor Ty Lee ever knew.

"You're right, of course. She's Miyako's grandmother and she seems to genuinely want to help."

When Akira blew into their rooms, she scooped up Miyako with a smile and produced a small stuffed toy from some hidden fold in her robes. The baby reached for it, smiling back at Akira.

"I'm so glad you asked me to come," the woman declared. She beamed at Mai and Zuko. "Where are you two going?" Her gaze became more piercing and focused on Mai. She and Zuko were dressed casually in training clothes. "Are you training? Should you be?"

Iroh chose that moment to knock and enter. "I've got the room prepared. Are you ready to meditate, Mai?"

"Meditation? Why?"

"Uh, well, I…." Mai shut down.

"Your daughter has suffered a sort of malaise, a sadness since Miyako's birth. I thought that meditation might help." He was clearly surprised at Akira's ignorance and not sure who to blame. He was also well aware of Mai's reticence, especially regarding her present state of mind. And she was adept at hiding her emotions. But shouldn't a mother notice these things? Or was the relationship too damaged for that?

Something flickered across Akira's face, and she grew distant for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. When she returned, it was obvious that she wanted to say something to Mai, but was overwhelmed by the presence of Iroh and Zuko. She finally managed, "Perhaps meditation will do you good," and an encouraging smile.

Mai was the last out the door. Her mother's voice made her stop.

"Wait. Mai…." The woman hesitated before collecting her courage. "Perhaps we can have a talk, just you and me. There are some things I should tell you."

Her first impulse was to snap back a definitive 'no'. But Mai swallowed down her anger and her resentment, took a deep breath and nodded. She could not afford to shun anything or anyone now that might provide her with information or help, not even her mother.

~~~~0000~~~~

Iroh had selected a small room with only one window and little by way of distractions. It was disused and empty but for the mats he had placed there along with a small table. Upon the table were three thick white candles.

"Sit," he instructed, pointing to the mats, one for each of them.

Mai watched as Zuko dropped gracefully to one of the outer mats, assuming the lotus position, his back straight. She took the center mat and did the same. Her muscles throbbed from the previous day's workout and she grimaced a bit. After a moment, the ache eased. Iroh joined them and lit all the candles with an imperceptible movement of his hand.

"The first thing we need to do is relax."

_Just like that._

"Inhale through your nose, a deep breath and slow; now let it back out. Concentrate on your breathing. Feel the air go in and out. Feel your chest expand and deflate."

They breathed for a few minutes and Mai did feel some of her tension drop away. She also felt a little ridiculous.

"Now, put your hands together like so, Mai."

She watched as Iroh rested the fingers of one hand loosely on the fingers of his other, thumbs just touching and mimicked him.

"Focus on the candle in front of you. Keep your eyes on that little flame."

Mai snuck a look at Zuko first and saw that he had already shed the trappings of daily life and the world around them, deep in whatever world meditation took one to.

"Don't watch Zuko. Watch the candle."

She could hear the grin in Iroh's voice.

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. But she wanted this to work; she needed it to work.

Mai stared at the flame, how it shifted with the movement of the air, how a halo of light surrounded it, how the colours varied from pale yellow, almost white, to a deep yellow. Zuko and Iroh faded away. The room faded too, the mat beneath her, the floor beneath that. Then it seemed as though she floated, light, like in water. And then the grief and pain and confusion faded too.

Her concentration failed after a minute or so and everything poured back into her. She huffed with frustration.

"You did well for your first time, Mai."

"What's the point of it? I escaped for a few moments. Meditating didn't make anything better."

"Give it a chance. Each time you'll last longer and the peace you're left with will last longer too. And perhaps you'll find some answers. Look, Mai, you're giving your body and your spirit a chance to rejuvenate. It can't hurt, remember."

Zuko stirred beside her. "How did you do?"

Mai shrugged. "Fine according to Iroh." She realized then that she'd pinned too much hope on this afternoon. It would take time, weeks, maybe months. "Thanks, both of you; I'll be back here tomorrow. But right now, I want to throw my knives again." She gave her husband a pointed look. "I'll be back to feed Miyako. I just need an hour."

Without another word she left, off to her training room and her own brand of meditation. Mai supposed she sought more escape, another few minutes with an empty mind. Right now, that and Zuko's love were all that kept her sane.

~~~~0000~~~~

 


	6. Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai and her mother finally talk.

_**Chapter 6: Inheritance** _

Lounging on the sofa, school book discarded on the floor, Miyako asleep on his chest, Tom-Tom looked adorable.

Mai observed from her chair, her own book face down on her lap. She had yet to turn a page. "So, does Mom know where you are?"

"Mmmm, yeah, I told her I was visiting after school." He yawned and closed his eyes. Miyako squirmed a bit before settling again.

"Has she, um, said anything about me?"

"What do you mean, Mai?"

The Fire Lady tucked a bit of ebony hair behind her ear before tossing her book onto the table. There was no point trying to read. She reached for her tea and took a sip, then another.

"I don't know, really. Does she say anything about my….you know, the way I feel." Ugh, it was so difficult talking about her situation. Mai felt like a freak.

The teenager shrugged. "No, not really; she did mention wanting to have a long talk with you. And she thinks you're avoiding her again. Are you?" He laughed. "I don't blame you. Sometimes I avoid her too."

"Maybe. Yes. Part of me wants to have this talk. It seemed really important to her and relevant to my life right now. But the other part is terrified."

"Why? It's just a talk." Tom-Tom lifted Miyako and sat up. He faced his sister and peered into her eyes. He would not back down.

"Sometimes it's better not to know certain things about someone. Sometimes that knowledge changes everything about the way you see that person and yourself. I have a feeling this talk isn't an ordinary one."

"You've faced a lot worse than that. You can face Mom and whatever she has to say. It might help."

There were those words again. Drink this tea. It might help. Meditate. It might help. Go for a walk. It might help. Talk with Zuko. It might help. Everything helped a little but for a short time only. And then the suffocating sadness settled in once more.

Mai thought back to the first few days after Miyako's birth. Bitter tears stung her eyes. She'd been robbed. These days and weeks should have been blissful; tiring and challenging, no doubt, but filled with joy too. Instead she'd been saturated with a despair and sadness that she could not explain. Any joy was experienced in terrifyingly fleeting moments.

Was she better now than she'd been in those first few days? Mai thought that perhaps she was and that idea was something to hold on to. Her naturally cynical nature also wondered if she hadn't simply learned to cope better with her depression. Maybe that's what getting better was; maybe all she could hope for was better coping mechanisms, longer periods of happiness.

_Face it, Mai. You don't know anything and that's what is so frustrating._

"I'm so sick of people saying that; _it might help_. I know you all mean well, but sometimes I wish you would all just shut up." Mai glanced at Tom-Tom and saw his startled eyes. She appealed to him with her own, asking for understanding.

"You're right. We all mean well, sis. We want you to feel like yourself again." He made as if to leave, cuddling Miyako for a moment before placing her in the bassinet.

"You don't have to go. Stay for dinner."

"Are you sure? I can leave. I'm not upset or anything."

"Come on. Stay, Tom, please."

He hesitated for a moment, more for show than for anything else. "All right; I'll stay for dinner. Then I have to go home and do my reading for school. I think if Mom gets another letter, she might die from the shame." He smirked and flopped back down. "So when is dinner? I'm starving."

"Can you wait an hour? I know you're a growing boy and everything…." She smirked back and it felt good.

"Yeah, I can wait."

"That's good of you, brother."

They settled into a pleasant silence punctuated only by the growling of Tom-Tom's stomach.

~~~~0000~~~~

At dinner, surrounded by Tom-Tom and Zuko and Iroh, Mai felt at ease and protected and cared for and gave into that feeling, pushing aside her inner torment. She enjoyed the meal and ate with more appetite than she had managed since her daughter's birth. Here was the normalcy she had thought about days ago; she and her family having a meal together, talking, laughing, listening.

Mai felt her husband's eyes on her, furtive glances he tried to disguise as random. She sensed his hopefulness as well. Not wanting to destroy his hope, not yet at least, Mai held her tongue about how a laugh here and there from her did not equate her being magically healed. He would discover that soon enough on his own. Let him hold on to the belief that she was improving at least. There was power in belief and perhaps some of that power would transfer itself to her.

"Nice dinner, wasn't it?" Zuko asked after Tom-Tom had headed home and Iroh had returned to his own room.

Nodding, Mai went about feeding a hungry Miyako.

"I can give Miya her bath of you like."

Mai nodded once more. "Thanks."

Filled and content, Miya was happy to have her father cradle her in the tiny basin while he soaped her body and hair, rinsing with care, making certain the water maintained its perfect warmth. Once she was clean and dry and dressed in her little sleep pants and shirt, he cuddled her close for a few moments before putting her to bed.

Mai struggled up from her chair, fatigue claiming her suddenly, and placed a kiss on the infant's forehead.

"You know," Zuko began, "a bath might do you good too. I could wash your hair and, and you and…." He gave her an endearing shy look.

They had bathed together many times, enjoyed it immensely. It was often an erotic experience, sometimes simply soothing, a way to be close physically and emotionally, a way to relax after a long day.

Mai hesitated. She didn't want Zuko to think she was interested in anything beyond comfort. It saddened her, this lack of desire. Theirs was a very physical relationship. Touch meant a great deal, touch of all kinds and lovemaking for them was often a profound experience.

She knew that reintroducing sex into a relationship after childbirth sometimes took time. Katara had mentioned that, and Suki too. So in _that_ at least, she fit the norm. Though Mai knew her depression had something to do with her lack of desire too. And it would probably take her even longer than it had taken her friends.

"I don't expect anything, Mai. I know you're not ready." Zuko reached for her hand and tugged her close, then into a tight embrace. "Don't worry about that," he spoke softly in her ear. "It'll happen when it happens. I can wait."

"Bath then," she whispered back.

They shed their clothing and headed into the huge bathroom, leaving the door open so they could hear Miyako. Zuko ran the water and adjusted its temperature to the one Mai liked best. She climbed in and groaned with delight as the heat seeped into her muscles and bones, chasing away aches.

Zuko browsed through the soaps and shampoos, settling for almond scented ones, grabbed a sponge and slid in beside his Mai.

"These all right?" He opened one of the bottles and let the smell waft about under Mai's nose.

"Perfect," she replied with a faint smile.

Then Zuko set to work. He was businesslike, soaping her down, warming the sponge, rubbing her arms and legs and feet, shampooing her hair. But he was tender too, letting his fingers linger here and there, caressing her skin, the fine bones of her wrist, her collarbone. He gave her kisses as well, gentle things that she could barely feel. They still ignited a tiny spark of arousal. That made her smile openly. She wasn't dead yet.

There was something achingly sweet about her beloved taking care of her like this. She was completely vulnerable, naked in the water, but had never felt safer or more loved.

"Thank you," she managed to say, her voice hoarse.

His answer was a kiss on the lips, soft and so warm. With a smile he rinsed her hair. The water cascaded down her back and trickled down her face and felt glorious. Eyes closed, she gave in to the sensations and it wasn't until Zuko prodded her that she arose from the tub.

He dried her off with a thick towel before handing her a robe. Plucking a comb from the vanity he dragged it through her hair, working on one little section at a time. Mai closed her eyes once more, the tugging against her scalp and feel of Zuko's hands making her drowsy.

"Are you ready for sleep?" There was a hint of humour in the Fire Lord's raspy voice.

"Yes."

"Do you want tea first?"

Mai shook her head. No tea would make her feel sleepier than she did at that moment. She let out a tiny yelp when Zuko scooped her up and carried her to the bed. She shrugged out of the robe and Zuko tossed it onto the floor. The cool of the sheets against the warm of her body roused her a bit. But Zuko crawled in after her and surrounded her in his own special heat and soon she was sound asleep.

She did not wake until Miyako cried five hours later, wanting to be fed.

~~~~0000~~~~

"The table looks lovely, Mai. And lunch smells wonderful."

Akira fluttered about the balcony, adjusting the wide umbrella that shaded the table, smelling the flowers that bloomed in profusion, both in pots and on vines that wound their way up and around the railing.

Miyako lay in her bassinet. She kicked her legs and cooed at the toy dragon clutched in strong little fingers.

"And Miyako gets more and more beautiful each time I see her. May I?" She looked to Mai before reaching down and picking the baby up.

Akira carried her about, kissing her head and her cheeks, talking in soft tones about nothing in particular. Miyako enjoyed it and gurgled her pleasure.

"I suppose I have to put you down again so that your mother and I can eat our lunch. Is that all right, little princess?"

Miyako grinned and Akira grinned in return before placing her back in the bassinet.

"I could hold her all day."

"Tea, mother?"

"Yes, please."

Mai poured and then pointed out the various dishes. She waited while Akira served herself and then put a little bit on her own plate.

"So, I assume you know why I asked you over for lunch."

"Yes, you're ready to have that talk."

"As ready as I can manage. So…." Mai took a nibble of rice and a sip of tea.

Akira drank in a big gulp of air before beginning.

"Last week, when Iroh mentioned how down you've felt since Miyako's birth, I, well, it brought back memories, ones that I couldn't deny any longer." She paused and looked Mai straight in the eye. "I could see that things weren't right with you, Mai, but I pushed all that aside precisely because of the memories your situation dredged up."

"Are you saying that after I was born you fell into some kind of depression?"

_That might explain a lot of things._

Hope soared in Mai. Right in front of her, in her own family, in her own blood, might be an answer. Perhaps her depression was an inheritance of sorts. If there were two, surely there were others. Then her shoulders slumped. What if she and Zuko wanted a second child? Would she have to suffer through this misery all over again? Would Miyako, if she decided to have children?

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. I thought I was crazy, Mai. And oh, how I resented you." Mai bristled. But _she_ resented Miyako sometimes. She could not judge. "I cried all the time. I didn't want to leave the house. Your father was no help. He thought I was being silly and female. I was alone in my sadness with nowhere to turn. I let the nurse take care of you most of the time. I didn't bond with you, Mai, not properly, not like a mother and a child should."

"That's why, then? I always knew you…." She didn't finish the sentence.

"What? Didn't love you? That's not true, Mai. It's not true at all. I do love you. I did love you. It was love hard won. Tom-Tom was easy. When he was born I felt great. And everything was just like all my friends said it should be."

Mai couldn't help her bitterness. "His being a boy didn't hurt, either."

"That had nothing to do with it. Yes, both your father and I were glad to have a son. And in some ways, it was a relief. But loving him wasn't easier because he was a boy. It was easier because I was happy, Mai, and eager to show him off and eager to be amongst people. I didn't want to hide away in the dark."

The younger woman felt tears start. Her throat closed tight and she put down her tea cup.

"But you're lucky, Mai."

"I'm lucky?"

"You have Zuko and Iroh and your brother and your friends and your uncle. And they all support you no matter what. And you're braver than I am. You're trying so hard with Miyako, harder than I tried with you."

"Oh, Mom….I, I wish…"

"It's done. I just wanted you to know that you're not the only one who had felt the way you feel now. It gets better. When you were almost a year, I suddenly realized that I felt different, lighter. And you were like a little stranger to me. You felt more comfortable with the nurse. You wanted her when you were hurt or sick. And I let her comfort you."

Mai could see it all now, her entire childhood, the strange dynamic between mother and daughter, her mother's aloofness, how it was simpler for her mother to shut Mai down than to take the time to know her. The seeing and the knowing gave her a sort of peace. But she wondered why her mother had not found her worth the effort.

Mai glanced over at Miyako and vowed not to make the same mistake.


	7. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai creates and tries to follow a routine, things to occupy her mind and body.

**Chapter 7: Routine**

Her mother's revelation shook Mai to the core. For the next few weeks, she mulled over every word the woman had said, looking for hints about her own childhood and adolescence, explanations for Akira's behaviour, reasons and meaning behind everything that had ever happened to her while she lived with her parents.

'You're over analyzing."

Zuko spoke the words with a smile. He was well aware of their irony. The Fire Lord had spent over three years in banishment. Over analyzing and brooding was how he got his time in, that and hunting the Avatar like the world's most tenacious predator.

"I'm glad you see the humour in your words." Mai smiled back and shook her head. "I realize what I'm doing. But I can't help myself."

"Talk to your mother again." Zuko scrubbed the back of his neck before letting a sigh loose. He paced a bit, pausing by the balcony doors to observe the night sky. Hands linked behind his back, a far away expression on his face, he reminded Mai of Iroh. It wasn't that they looked alike. But Zuko had absorbed many of the older man's mannerisms over the years. He was still fiery and moody and prone to bursts of anger. But he was far calmer than teenaged Zuko had been. And he thought before he spoke…usually. When she reflected more, Mai realized that Aang had rubbed off on him too. And years of dealing with ornery council members had strengthened the valuable skills of negotiation and compromise and listening. "Look, Mai, I'm not the best person to give advice about family." He snorted indelicately. "But your mother is trying, at least. It must have taken a lot for her to tell you what she did. And I know you're hurt. But maybe….."

"Maybe I should just suck it up and make an effort too." She stared at her husband expectantly.

"Yeah, something like that, I guess, if you want to. I mean, if you think your mother is worth the effort."

_Worth the effort._

Mai mulled that phrase over in her head. Her mother had chosen to give up rather than to push and work for a good relationship with Mai. Did she want to do the same? Then again, Akira was extending the hand of motherly concern now. Was refusing it really an option? The answer was an obvious one. Still she had priorities. And healing herself, forming a strong bond with Miyako along with the maintenance of her marriage to Zuko were at the top of her list. Her mother was secondary, especially now. But she would make small gestures here and there. That she could handle.

"This, all this…" Mai's eyes swept around the room, over Zuko and their daughter asleep in her bassinet "comes first." She crossed the space between them, her bare feet sinking into the softness of the carpet, and wrapped her arms about Zuko. "But I will try."

"Good." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm proud of you, you'll never know how proud. You're so strong, Mai."

It was Mai's turn to snort. "I feel anything but strong." Yet, when she contemplated her love's words, she realized that knowing when to seek help, knowing when to open up did require a certain strength. And she was facing her issues head on now, no flinching, no hiding, no keeping anything to herself and allowing it to fester and rot and poison her further. "But maybe you're right. Maybe I am strong."

"I know it."

"Thank you." She spoke softly, burying her face in his chest.

Zuko stroked her hair, running his hand down the length of black. "I'm your husband." She felt him shrug. Those words were explanation enough.

"Yes, and I'm glad of that." Mai pulled back and covered a yawn. "I feel tired. Iroh's tea is working."

She padded over to the bassinet and peered down at Miyako. The infant was still but for the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. Not wanting to wake her, Mai did not touch. But for the first time since Miyako was born, she felt a strong urge to pick her up and hold her close and never let her go.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, "will be a better day. And I'll hold you then. I promise."

~~~~0000~~~~

Mai created a routine for herself, a strict one. She carved it out of her previously aimless days, making time for training, meditation, a walk in the gardens with Miyako and Zuko if he had a spare hour, reading, a visit with Iroh and play time with her daughter. Meals and feeding the infant took up more time. And she found herself napping when Miya did.

On top of that, she and Zuko made sure they had a few moments to cuddle and talk each day. They both needed that, Mai now more than ever before. No one could reassure her like Zuko. No one else's touch could convey so much to her. The tenacity and power of his love and respect buoyed her up when she felt as though she might drown.

Then there were other things like replying to letters from her friends and her uncle. They were all well meaning and kind and she loved them each. But it wasn't until she revealed her situation to Ty Lee and Suki and Toph and Katashi in turn that she felt comfortable writing to them. Her notes before were brief, saying nothing of import. And she'd felt bad about that. She'd hoped they understood somehow, passing off her reticence as part of new motherhood and exhaustion.

Their responses to her confession overwhelmed Mai. Ty Lee, her oldest friend, wanted to visit immediately and would stay as long as Mai needed her. The other women offered visits too and opened their homes to her if she needed to get away. Suki especially sympathized with the trials a new baby brought and assured Mai that her feelings, though extreme, were not a result of some fault or some wrongness inside. Toph's humour and irreverence came through even in the letters she dictated. And her Uncle Katashi's love and support brought tears to her eyes.

There were other letters she awaited more anxiously. Iroh had still not received any replies.

"They have some research to do first, my dear. Don't worry. Everyone will answer."

"Now that my mother has come forward, I'm even more eager to see if it's some strange familial trait or a malady that plagues women around the world." Mai grimaced. "I wouldn't wish what I'm going through on any new mother. But if they're out there, I want to know about it." She grew contemplative for a few minutes and Iroh let her be.

The old man leaned back in his chair and peered at his pai sho pieces. Mai, despite her less than perfect concentration, was giving him a challenge. They had played many times over the years, mostly in his Jasmine Dragon, and the young woman improved steadily. Mai was one of his favorite opponents. She rarely made a rash move and maintained calm. And she never gave anything away on her face. But she would surprise Iroh here and there with creative strategy or a daring move that sometimes paid off. There was much more to Mai than what she permitted those outside her intimate circle of loved ones to see.

"Ah, yes, yes, I think I get it now." He chuckled and reached for his tea, warming it before taking a long sip.

Mai's voice was teasing. "Do you?"

"Now, now, you're just trying to shake my confidence."

"I am?" She drank back the remainder of _her_ tea before tapping her fingernails against the table top.

The tea shop owner pushed his lily tile along a diagonal before staring up at Mai, very pleased with himself.

Mai's expression remained neutral. She allowed her hand to hover over the game board before making what she thought was a triumphant final move. But Iroh's years of experience and sharp mind won out. She saw it then and groaned.

"I got you."

"Yes, I see that now."

"That was a good game, Mai. Perhaps in a few years, you'll be able to defeat me."

"Oh, that soon?"

"Ha, yes, now let's get back to those letters. If it turns out there are many women who have experienced what you are experiencing now, what will you do?"

The Fire Lady stared down at her hands, thinking. Then she adjusted her hair, tucking bits of ebony behind her ears, anything to gain time. "I don't know. Well, I will make sure that Doctor Kita knows it. And maybe he can tell other physicians and mid-wives. Perhaps he could write about this condition, give it a name maybe. Sometimes putting a name to something makes it seem more real and manageable."

"Perhaps _you_ could, write something I mean."

"Me? No, but I would like to help. I think Katara is more suited for that than I am."

"Hmm, I suppose."

Mai got up from her chair and thanked Iroh for the game. "Miyako will be hungry by now. And then it's training time."

"You're keeping yourself very busy."

"It helps; less time to dwell on the bad."

"And how is your training coming?"

"Good; I get lost in the throwing and everything else drops away. And," she added with a smile, "I'm regaining my old touch."

"See, you never lose it, Mai. All it takes is time to get rid of the rust." He stood up too, held Mai's hand and kissed her cheek. "I see subtle changes, Mai. You're improving, bit by bit. And it's because you're working at it and talking and using those of us who cherish you."

"I want it to happen faster. It still feels as though I'm stumbling around in the dark, carrying a huge weight on each of my shoulders." Mai trembled a bit and rubbed her hands up and down her thin arms. "I've never experienced anything so terrible."

"It's a dark time for you, yes. And I cannot begin to understand what it is you are feeling, Mai. But know this; all of us experience these dark times in one form or another. And most of us get through them. Have faith in yourself and those around you. Better times are coming."

Mai gave Iroh a nod and left the room. She was grateful to the old man and that gratitude was impossible to put into words, as were so many emotions. He knew, though. Iroh was smart and intuitive and could sense a lot about people. He knew. And for that Mai was grateful too.

~~~~0000~~~~

Having a routine was one thing. Dividing the day up into busy little chunks of time meant to occupy her mind and body, tire her out, force her to live, was easy enough to do; finding the drive to follow that routine was harder.

Mai dragged herself back to her rooms and sent the nurse away for an hour. Left alone with Miyako, she lifted her up off the blanket and held her close for a few moments, running her fingers through the thick black hair, humming an old melody. But Miya was hungry and had no patience for anything. She squirmed in Mai's grip.

"Okay, I get it," Mai remarked as she adjusted her daughter's position and began to nurse her.

Stupidly, she felt rejected. But a baby's needs are immediate and they have not learned the art of waiting. Mai knew that. She would try again once Miya was full.

"Better?" she asked once the baby finished.

Mai smiled down at her daughter and began to hum once more. This time Miyako responded with a smile. It was pure and real and a wonderful reward. Stroking Miya's cheek, Mai whispered "I love you." And her words were as genuine as Miyako's smile.

When she looked up, Mai saw Zuko standing in the doorway, observing the scene with his own sappy grin.

"That makes everything worthwhile." Striding over to his family, he kissed them both. "Lunch is on its way. Hungry?"

"A bit."

"Training later?"

"Yes."

"How was your game of pai sho?"

"Oh, I almost beat your uncle; or maybe he was just saying that to make me feel good."

"No, you're an excellent player, much better than I am."

"Mmm, I guess; how was your morning?"

"Uneventful for the most part, but productive; I've had worse."

The food arrived. Hot and savory, its smells filled the room. Mai put Miya down with a few simple toys and took her place at their little table, kneeling on a thick cushion across from her husband. She poured the tea and they ate, Mai with slow, measured mouthfuls, Zuko more hungrily.

Anyone taking a cursory glance would see an idyllic family scene; mother and father and baby. But rarely was anything quite what it seemed. Mai knew that far too well.

~~~~0000~~~~

"Zuko, wait a minute."

The Fire Lord, dressed in his most formal robes, long brown hair in a top knot, was about to leave for the monthly meeting with representatives from the various Fire Nation regions. He turned about and looked at his wife.

"I don't want to be late."

Mai smoothed out a slight crease in his silks before cupping his cheek. "I'm going to visit my mother today. I just decided and I didn't want you to wonder where I got off to. I'll take Miya and walk."

He looked at her aghast. "Walk? No, you won't. You'll take the palanquin and an accompaniment of guards."

"Are you telling me what to do?"

"Yes, in this case I am. It's not safe for you and Miyako out there. We don't what kind of crazies might want to hurt you or our daughter. You need protection."

Mai knew he was right but felt her anger rise anyway, terrible anger that came from somewhere deep, deep down.

"I can protect myself and Miyako." Her words were a hiss and her jaw stuck out in stubborn defiance. "I'm not weak or helpless." But that _was_ how she felt now; broken and dulled and in control of nothing.

"Mai, we've been through this before. I know you're not weak. And I know you can fight and you would do anything to protect Miyako. But why put her or yourself in harm's way when you can get to your mother's safely? It doesn't make sense." He put a hand on her shoulder but Mai shook it off, dishing out her own brand of rejection.

"Nothing makes sense," she cried. "Nothing and nothing ever will." She swiped at her eyes. "Go, go to your meeting."

Once, years ago, he would have left her like that, baffled by her outburst, unsure of what to do, unsure of his ability to comfort. And his leaving would have tormented him and her until they'd made things right. But after ten years of marriage, Zuko understood more, was more mature, wiser, a better partner. Mai was counting on that.

"No." He could be stubborn too.

His arms engulfed Mai and he held on to her fiercely, as though he would never let go. Warmth flowed into her and with that warmth her rage dissipated. She let herself be held, relaxed her body and breathed in and out, in and out, a gentle rhythm.

"I'm sorry."

Zuko kissed her hair. "I just want you to be safe." He meant so much more than safe crossing the street to her mother's house. She knew that and hugged him back with equal ferocity.

"Go now," she urged. "I'll take the palanquin and a host of guards. Miya and I will be fine."

"Okay." He pulled away, but tilted her head up, two fingers beneath her chin. "I love you."

"I know."

She watched him walk to the door, suddenly the Fire Lord and not Zuko, her husband, her lover, her best friend. With a tired smile, she hoisted up Miyako before arranging for the palanquin.

"Let's go see your grandmother. It should be... interesting."


	8. Back to the Old House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai spends the day with her mother and her memories.

_**Chapter 8: Back to the Old House** _

The palanquin swayed on the shoulders of the servants, a gentle motion that reminded Mai of the seashore and the comings and goings of the waves. With Miyako pressed against her chest, she peeked out from behind the curtains and watched the people, some strolling, some walking briskly, little children skipping along, all excitement and joy.

How many times had she walked this same street, leaving her house with anger and hurt coiled up tight inside, her face an impassive mask? Each time, she'd hoped for a glimpse of Zuko, until he left, of course. Then she hoped for something different.

How many times had _Zuko_ walked this same street, making his way to the house, temporarily her domain, her parents still in New Ozai, freedom theirs to do with as they wished?

She'd lean against the pillars of the house's front porch, arms crossed, casual and bored looking, and never letting the anticipation she felt show to anyone outside. Underneath all that apathy, she bubbled with happiness and love and lust and could not wait to put her hands all over Zuko. He was so warm, all parts of him, and she loved to touch, to press herself up against him, feel the heat of his skin, the firm muscles that worked beneath. She would trail her fingers along limbs and trace shapes on his chest, then his stomach, daring to venture lower sometimes.

They'd made love in that house, in her room, spent long, sweet nights together when all their troubles and worries drifted off into the cool air, leaving them unburdened until the morning sun broke the spell.

It had been a strange time, full of wonder and full of confusion too. Part of Mai felt nostalgic for that period of her life, and part was glad it was far behind her. Zuko was hers now in a way that he hadn't been then. Back from his banishment, home for the first time in three years, crippled by guilt, unsure of just about everything, he was divided, only part of him hers.

Mai gave her head a quick shake. Miyako stirred. She felt the palanquin stop, then rest on the ground.

"We're here, my lady."

She parted the curtains and stepped out with care. The house loomed up before her, white with a red tiled roof and gold trim, just like all the other buildings in Capitol City. She climbed the steps, clutching Miyako, waving the guards aside. They deferred to her and assumed their positions at strategic points outside the house, waiting for her departure.

The red double doors loomed next. Mai knocked and waited. A servant answered, a young woman, enthusiastic and pretty. She must be new.

"Lady Mai!" she exclaimed before bowing and then stepping aside, calling out to Akira. "She's here, my lady, she's here."

"All right, all right, Satori." Akira shooed her away, into the kitchen. "Help Emiko prepare lunch. You'll stay, won't you, Mai?"

The younger woman shrugged. "I suppose."

"Satori, bring some tea _now_ , into the sitting room." Akira turned back to Mai and Miyako. She smiled. "I'm pleased that you're here. Come."

Mai trailed along behind her mother, glancing at the familiar tile beneath her feet, the pictures that decorated the walls, the tables laden with vases stuffed full of flowers from the garden. They passed the kitchen and Mai spied Satori and Emiko, one brewing tea, the other chopping vegetables. The staircase leading to the second floor and Mai's bedroom beckoned her. She wanted to climb to the top and enter her room, shutting the door behind her, suffusing herself in memories.

"Whatever are you thinking about, Mai?"

"Nothing."

That was a lie, of course. Every corner, every room reminded her of some long ago altercation or humiliation or sadness or rage. She recalled favorite hiding spots from when she was a small child; her father's office, the cozy library, the space behind thick, scarlet curtains.

Memories of her and Zuko were everywhere as well, bittersweet ones.

"Are you sure?"

"Nothing that I want to discuss."

"Oh, well then….." Akira was not sure what to say. She fiddled with her hair, a nervous habit. "The tea will be ready shortly," she finally managed. Tea was a safe topic of conversation.

Once they were settled in the sitting room, Mai handed Miyako off to her mother. "She likes the toy you got her." Mai produced it from a pocket inside her robes. The tiny girl beamed and reached for it.

"I'm glad. Oh, Mai, she's perfect, isn't she?" Akira held one of the baby's hands in hers, marveling at the little fingers. "You forget."

Mai's voice broke despite her best effort at control. But her control these days was not what it used to be. "Was _I_ perfect, Mother?"

Looking up, her eyes full of regret, Akira said firmly, "Yes, yes, you were perfect, Mai. But I was too full of my own pain to see that with any clarity."

"I wish you'd told me years ago. I never felt good enough for you or for Dad. All you did was shush me, Mother, shove me into a corner, looking pretty, quiet and pretty and no trouble. But I never felt that you loved me. I hid all that behind my apathy and my sarcasm. I pretended that I didn't care. I made my own world and then I had Zuko and I didn't need you or Dad anymore."

"No, and I don't suppose you need us _now_ , do you?"

'I _don't_ need you." Mai wondered if she could ever admit to something like that. She wasn't ready to be that exposed with her mother, not yet, not after all those years of strain. "But I'd like to have some kind of normal relationship. I'd like Miyako to know her grandparents and to love them."

"I thought, maybe, if I told you about, about my experiences when you were born, that we could start anew."

"I know you did, Mom. And I want that too. I do. But, it's hard to forget everything that happened."

"And forgiveness?"

It wasn't all her mother's fault. She'd been sucked into a void of despair and had no one to help her out. She dealt with it as best she could. She struggled and all while pretending that everything was perfect, perfect so that her society acquaintances and those she called 'friends', those she could confess nothing too, would continue to accept her into their exclusive fold.

Fitting in was important. For a political career to flourish, the kind Mai's father wanted, and Akira wanted for him, the family image must be spotless. The mother must be brisk and efficient and supportive of her husband, but have a hint of softness too, that nurturing quality that made her more approachable. The father must have the right amount of ambition and drive, work hard and associate with the right people. He must keep his family in line, while doting on occasion. And the daughter, she must be well behaved and demure, opinion-less, blank. But she must smile when spoken too, respond in just the right way and then fade away again.

Perhaps all that was an exaggeration, some distorted view of her past. Memory was a strange thing. Perhaps, but some of it was true. Of that, Mai was certain.

Could she forgive? What point was there in holding on to bitterness and anger and resentment? It was doing Mai no good. If she let it all go, she might attain a certain freedom. There was too much heaviness in her heart these days. She wanted to lighten the load.

"I could be a real pain sometimes."

_Sarcastic, cynical, pretending not to care about anything, genuinely caring about very little_

"Sometimes," Akira agreed. "I guess you had your reasons."

"I guess you had yours."

The two women stared across the space that separated them; two generations, a third in Akira's lap, allowed their eyes to meet and nodded, coming to an unspoken agreement of sorts.

"Tea is ready, my lady." Satori shattered the moment. She glanced at the Fire Lady and her mistress, sensing that something important had just occurred. "Um, shall I pour?"

Akira nodded. So they drank tea and ate lunch and spoke politely. And every so often something more meaningful emerged in the conversation and once in a while laughter sounded.

~~~~0000~~~~

"Did you want to see your old bedroom? Honestly Mai, you look tired. You can lie down up there if you like. I'll watch the baby."

Miyako was fed and dry and happy with her grandmother. Nothing was stopping Mai from climbing the stairs and immersing herself in the past. She was tired. Keeping up the conversation with her mother had taken a lot out of her. She'd bitten back caustic remarks and kept her sarcasm to a minimum in an effort to keep things pleasant. Was that kindness or a betrayal of her personality? Why should she become someone else, some more placid version of herself just to smooth things over?

Yes, compromise was necessary, but if she had to censor every word said to her mother, well, that would entail too much stress. She should be herself, nothing less, nothing glossed over. Then again, Mai realized that sometimes she needed to hold back a little bit, soften her edges. Her words could often be hurtful and bitter.

_I'm second guessing everything I do these days. It's like the real me, whatever that means exactly, is lost somewhere in this morass of depression. How am I supposed to act around her? I don't want to pretend. I hate pretending._

"Mai?" She felt the pressure of her mother's hand. "Mai, you drifted away again. Are you all right?"

_If I hear that one more time I'm going to scream._

"I'm….no, I'm not really. But we know that already. Honestly, I find this tiring."

"What, visiting me?"

"Yeah."

"Will you tell me why?"

"I feel as though I have to put on an act, tone down my words, so everything is smooth."

"You never worried about that before." Akira chuckled. "Don't. If you're going to be part of my life, I want you, all of you. Don't change anything." She gave Mai's arm a squeeze. "But politeness and consideration are valuable attributes."

"Okay; I think I'll take that nap now." Wearily, she began her journey up the stairs. Turning around briefly, she added, "Thank you."

Akira nodded and adjusted Miyako in her arms. "Rest now."

~~~~0000~~~~

Mai wavered in the corridor for a moment before stepping across the threshold and entering her old bedroom. Nothing was different. That surprised her a bit. She'd imagined her mother turning the room into some sort of private space, converting it into _something_ different.

But the bed, the sofa, the wardrobe, the desk were all the same; the bedding, the shutters, the plants. The portrait of her and Zuko, the one that Mai had insisted on, hung in their rooms at the palace now. She stared at the spot on the wall, the spot her eyes had been drawn to every night before she closed her eyes, and thought about all that the portrait represented.

She'd felt helpless then too, her life with Zuko a fragile thing. His entire world had been in question, everything he was taught to believe in and fight for. She'd sensed his turmoil early on and watched as it grew, unable to do anything but cup his cheek or give him a kiss or hold his hand or lie with him until he fell asleep. Because he'd kept her in a sort of fog, unable to see clearly what his issues were. He would not share his troubles with Mai. He offered cryptic words here and there, vague monologues that only heightened her sense of unease.

So Mai knew how Zuko felt when she shut him out during the first few weeks of Miyako's life. He saw her suffering and wanted to help and she denied him the chance. But tangled up in her own misery, her husband's feelings and worries were inconsequential.

Sighing, Mai glided to the huge window that looked out across the city. It gave a good view of the palace, especially the central tower, and Mai had spent many hours gazing across the distance, wondering what Prince Zuko was doing, and later, if he would ever make it back to his home.

Assuming the same position in the same spot, it was easy to slip into her twelve year old self, thinking about the boy she loved, remembering the precious details of their time together; furtive glances, secret smiles, his hand grazing hers, whispered words. Mai smiled, the expression almost wistful, before leaving the window and curling up on the bed.

Sleep, elusive these past few months, came quickly and if she dreamed, Mai did not recall any of them. Given the nature of her most recent ones, she was grateful. When she awoke, she felt rested and her thoughts were of Zuko. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to go home.

Mai left her mother with a brief hug and a promise to return the following week. It was a promise she intended to keep.

~~~~0000~~~~

"That was a long visit." Zuko raised his one eyebrow.

The force of his deep gold eyes on her almost burned. Was he looking for wounds, fresh mental scars, making certain that she had survived her mother unscathed?

"I'm happy to see you too." It felt good to use snark once more. Mai gave her husband a sly grin.

"Hmmph, how was it?"

"Surprisingly…it was pretty good." She peeled Miyako away from her chest and held her out for Zuko to take. "I had a nap while I was there….in my old bedroom."

Zuko grinned this time. "I have fond memories of that place."

"I spent so much time there, a lot of it unhappy, a lot of it thinking about you."

She stepped closer to Zuko and he put one arm around her while he held on to their daughter with the other.

"How are you?" he whispered.

"Sometimes now I can see a light in all the darkness. It's small, but it's there."

The Fire Lord let out a shaky breath before leaning down a bit to kiss the shell of Mai's ear.

"I can't tell you how happy that makes me." He kissed her again, his lips moving to her cheek. "I love you."

Before she could answer, Iroh burst through the door with a handful of scrolls.

"Replies," he declared. "I thought perhaps that you would like to read them first, Mai." He glanced from one to the other. "Did I interrupt? I'm sorry."

"N, no, it's fine." The new mother looked momentarily stricken. Her eyes widened and she hesitated before taking the letters with a trembling hand.

_Be brave._

"Thank you, Iroh."

Mai sat down on the sofa and chose a letter at random, not looking at the seal. With exaggerated care she tore it open and began to read.


	9. Together We're Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The letters are a mixed bag.

_**Chapter 9: Together We're Stronger** _

Tension, or maybe it was simply anticipation, saturated the sitting room. Mai's heart thumped in her chest and she was certain that the sound it made resounded throughout the entire space. She swallowed hard a few times while skipping through the first letter's words of greeting. She wanted to get to the meat of the reply. When she reached a paragraph somewhere near the middle, Mai hesitated for a moment, glancing up at Zuko. He gave her an encouraging smile and stroked Miyako's cheek as if to remind Mai that there stood her family, the ones who loved her and wanted her to heal, the ones who needed her, the ones _she_ needed.

"Okay." She spoke the word under her breath as if it could make her brave, and continued to read.

The letter was from a friend of Iroh's, a woman connected to the Order of the White Lotus, but not a member. She was a midwife.

_I've been around many new mothers, hundreds and hundreds, and your letter brought to mind a young woman I knew years ago in Ba Sing Se. She was a sweet girl, a happy girl, optimistic and full of life. And when she married and then found herself expecting a baby, she was thrilled. Her smile lit up every room she stepped into. She could not wait for that child to come. Her name was Mara, that's right. I_

_Anyway, when the day came, I attended the birth. Everything went smoothly. The child was healthy. Mara was fine, tired like all women after giving birth, but fine. I came back the next day to check on Mara and the boy. Yes, it was a boy. Mara was listless and her eyes had lost their light. Physically, she was recovering nicely. I assumed she was simply exhausted and needed a bit of extra rest._

_She didn't say anything about feeling sad or angry. She didn't say much of anything. Days passed and her family grew worried. They wondered what was wrong with Mara. I wondered what was wrong with her. How did she change so quickly? How did a woman who wanted her child so badly show little to no interest in the baby? How could a happy person sink so low in such a short time?_

_No one knew what to do. Some wondered if Mara had lost her mind and some wondered if she was simply unfit to be a mother. I was helpless and I hated that. Eventually, she came out of it. It took months. And it was gradual. But she got better. Whatever had taken hold of her mind let go. I have no words of wisdom to give you other than to show love and kindness and support to the mother. With that, one hopes, she can heal._

Mai dropped the letter on to the floor and tore open the next one. The Mara woman had had an experience similar to her mother's. And she got better like her mother did; more evidence that pointed to a bright, healthy future. Mai felt a rush of hope warm her up. Wanting to keep Zuko abreast of things, she looked up and gave him a nod.

His answering smile warmed her even more. Miyako squirmed in his arms. Zuko sat down on the floor, placing the baby on the carpet nearby, giving her room to wriggle. He gave Mai space and time to digest whatever she read, time to read more. Patience had never been a quality he possessed in abundance. But over the years, he'd worked on it, fought hard to gain more. And he'd won the battle. The Fire Lord was not the _most_ patient man in the world and he still exploded on occasion, but when it came to the important things, he showed remarkable composure. Mai was proud.

What she read next was darker. Mai bit down on her lip and squeezed back tears as she tore through the account of a woman who ended her own life after months of suffering and finally rejection at the hands of those who should have supported her no matter what. There were women who attempted to hurt their babies, driven by no one knew what. They were cast out of their homes, their villages, driven away like Zuko had been. Mai knew well _his_ hurt. She could imagine that of those women.

Recalling her own ambivalence to Miyako and her occasional bouts of resentment, Mai shivered, wondering how close she might have been to actually hurting her daughter. Had it been possible? Was it still? Did she really have any sort of control over this thing that had invaded her body and mind, poisoning them both? Or was it illusory, something to hide behind; the meditation and the exercise and the tea and the talk?

Eyes drawn to the carpet where Miyako cooed contentedly, Mai stared at her baby. She was so tiny, so vulnerable, so dependent upon her love and Zuko's love and yet so resilient. The thought of hurting her physically sickened Mai and her heart twisted inside, ached and throbbed at the very idea.

Could those women be blamed? Were their minds so tainted by their depressions that control over their actions was no longer theirs? What to do then? How could such women get better? Why was Akira lucky and Mara while others sunk deeper into their despair? She had so many questions and no answers and her frustration grew.

"I need to go," she blurted out. "I just, I….." Shrugging thin shoulders, Mai gave her husband a helpless look before darting from the suite. The letters scattered on to the carpet, rectangles of white against the red.

~~~~0000~~~~

She knew that Zuko would follow her; keeping his distance, allowing her room, but _there_ should she need him. And Mai felt her love for him swell once more. The love was always there; a constant. But at some moments, a moment like this one, it became more intense, was heightened by a gesture, a tender kiss, a sacrifice, a laugh.

His robes whispered behind her, a comforting sound. She ran, her own robes floating dreamily, heading she knew not where. Turning down random corridors, Mai finally ended up outside, in a small courtyard. At its centre sat a fountain, dragons carved into the stone, water trickling into the basin. Small fruit trees, planted in large pots, grew lush and green in every corner. Two stone benches sat near the fountain and Mai dropped down on to one with something akin to relief.

The sun was hot on the bare skin of her face, too hot and she wished she could move the bench beneath one of the trees. Compromising, she moved herself. The shade provided a reprieve from the heat. Mai closed her eyes, still sensing Zuko's protective presence nearby and breathed deeply, again and again, until her heartbeat was steady and calm, her mind quieter.

_So much to process. So much to think about. Miyako…._

The quiet vanished and her mind descended back into the whirlwind.

_So much for meditation._

Grateful that this condition she suffered from was not unique to her and her mother, confused by the varying degrees of its severity, horrified by what some women were driven to do, Mai dropped her head into her hands.

She knew he would come to her. She wanted him to, needed him to.

"Mai, I'm here." Zuko kept his voice steady and sure. But an edge of fear coloured it, fear and such deep worry. His hands trailed down her hair, stroking. Zuko moved her dark mane to one side. His lips found her neck, her ear. His raspy words caressed her skin. "Tell me."

Mai gathered up her courage and her thoughts. "The letters, they…"

"It's okay."

Zuko took her unresisting body into his arms and pressed it to him. How was it possible for one human being to make another feel so safe and cared for, adored and loved? How did the beat of his heart, the smell of him make everything seem so much better, good seem possible, all things attainable?

"Some of the women killed themselves." Mai gulped back a sob. "Some of them, oh, some of them hurt their babies."

"You couldn't…" Zuko said fiercely. "You would never….." He hugged her tight, so tight that it hurt.

"How do you know?" Mai demanded an answer with just as much ferocity. "What makes me different? I'm scared, Zuko." There it was, stark and terrible.

"I know."

"What do I do?"

"Do what you're doing; work at getting better, talk to me, to Iroh, to your mother, your brother, your friends. It's helping. I can see it."

"But when will I know that everything is all right? Will it ever be all right, really? Will Miyako be safe with me?"

This time she allowed the sobs their freedom while her husband peppered her cheeks with kisses, desperate to make her feel better, to make it all go away.

"I don't know, I don't know, but it _will_ be. And Miyako is safe with you. I don't doubt that, not at all, never. I couldn't."

"Let's hope that belief doesn't came back to haunt us."

They were chilling words. And it hurt to say them, hurt both Mai and Zuko. She broke away from Zuko's hold and wiped her damp cheeks and eyes.

"Are you ready to go back?" Zuko cupped a cheek and stroked along the bone with his thumb.

"Yeah, I suppose."

Fingers linked, they walked back to their suite of rooms, somber silence between them.

~~~~0000~~~~

Iroh was surrounded by a pile of correspondence. He was deep in thought and did not hear the young couple arrive back. Miyako was on his lap and he kissed her head absent mindedly, while holding her steady with one arm.

"Oh," the old man declared when he detected their return. "Good." He peered at Mai from beneath rather bushy grey eyebrows. "I can see why you're upset, dear, but…"

"But," she interrupted. "But nothing; you read about those women and what they did." Saying it like that, with disdain and venom, Mai felt as though she were somehow betraying her own kind, passing judgment. "Yeah, I'm upset."

He pointed to the chair opposite him. "Sit."

Mai sat. She placed her hands in her lap and waited for whatever bit of optimistic wisdom Iroh might impart.

"A lot of the women healed, more than didn't, it seems. I would take that as a positive. And," he placed a single letter on the table. "I don't think you read Katara's. You should."

Without a word, Mai snatched it up and read. She felt their eyes on her, Zuko's and Iroh's, intent, watchful.

_I thought that something wasn't quite right at the naming ceremony. I wanted to ask, but sometimes Mai can be sort of intimidating._

The Fire Lady snorted.

_And she's not the easiest person to talk to._

"True enough," Mai agreed under her breath.

_I want to help. Mai should be enjoying these days with Miyako. Health and healing, they're all about balance in the body. Something is out of balance inside Mai. The birth triggered things. I've seen it a few times myself._

Mai wondered where the inspiration was, the hope that Katara was so famous for.

_Oh, she's going to hate me, isn't she, Iroh? I have no instant cure and no guarantees. But if she takes exceptionally good care of herself; eats well, sleeps well, exercises, sticks to a routine, talks about what she's going through, the imbalance should right itself. It sounds like she's trying that already. And I'll bet by the time you get this letter, she'll be better than she was._

_It takes time and effort and lots of love. I know how much Zuko loves Mai. He'll be a huge help. Don't let her be afraid of Miyako. Don't let Mai shun her. She needs to spend time with her baby. If all that doesn't help, and it should, I'll come to the Fire Nation and try to coax her body and mind back into a balanced state._

_What Mai needs to remember is that what is balance for her now will be different than what was balance for her before she gave birth. Her body is different now. It's not worse, or better, just different._

_And tell her that we love her, me and Aang and Kya. Tell her not to give up. Tell her to fight._

The emotion behind Katara's words and their sincerity startled Mai. The words restored some of her hope too, banishing the worst scenarios, forcing her to focus on the positive ones. She'd gotten along with Katara, and considered her a friend. But Mai's relationship with the waterbender was nowhere near as close as those she had with Ty Lee or Suki or even Toph.

At that moment, though, she loved Katara. And she would one day, in her own way, let Katara know.

~~~~0000~~~~

"I won't let those bad things happen."

"Zuko, I know you mean well, but you can't control everything. You can't be with me all the time."

"I don't _care_. I won't let them happen. And you won't either. And you'll keep getting better. And one day soon, all this will be a memory, and you and Miyako and me and maybe….." he stopped himself, but Mai knew what he had almost let slip out. He was thinking about a second child.

"You can say it."

"Maybe another baby, we'll be happy."

"If I didn't have you…" That was a thought too terrible to contemplate.

"You do, always."

"You make me happy. Even through all this, _you_ , Zuko, make me happy. You give me the will to keep going. And sometimes, it's so, so hard."

"We've been through so much."

"Yes."

"We're strong."

Mai nodded and flashed Zuko a smile.

"We're stronger together."

"Stronger together," Mai mimicked.

"Are you tired? You look tired."

Mai could not repress a yawn. "Mmmmm….." She slid down beneath the sheet and the light blanket, turning onto her side, resting her head on the pillow, waiting for Zuko to wrap his arms about her.

He did and nothing had ever felt more right. Nestled against Mai's chest now, Miyako continued to sleep. Mai put an arm around _her_. That felt right too.


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai makes a difficult decision.

Miyako ran across the garden, pumping chubby toddler arms and chubby toddler legs, before tripping over a tree root and landing face first in the grass. Mai held her breath for a moment, waiting for the shriek and the tears. But they did not come. Instead, Miyako pushed herself upright and continued on, laughing, oblivious to the bits of leaves in her hair, the bright green stains on her red leggings.

"She's pretty tough," Katara observed.

Mai's voice was full of pride. "She is." Pausing, the Fire Lady turned to face her friend. "Zuko wants a second one." Another pause, this one longer. "I'm terrified."

"It's been a long road for you, Mai." The waterbender and healer put a hand on Mai's shoulder. Empathy swam in endless blue eyes. "I understand your fear. How could you not be afraid?"

"I don't know if I can do it. And if I do, and I suffer the depression again….again….I'm still not like I was, not entirely, despite your help. I might not come out of it next time. It might be worse." The Fire Lady's raspy voice trembled.

"And it might be completely different. You might not suffer anything but happiness. Think of the joy you could be missing out on."

"I've considered all that, Katara," Mai snapped. "Is it worth the risk? That's what I have to decide."

"What about Zuko and _his_ wants, _his_ needs?"

Anger flared in Mai and began to burn. Somewhere far down, she knew that her friend was simply forcing Mai to see all the angles, all the sides, to consider everything before making a decision about future children. But implying that she'd forgotten Zuko's wants, implying that she was making this whole situation all about her, infuriated the Fire Lady.

"That's not fair, Katara." Mai's fists were clenched and her mouth a tight line. "You know how much I love Zuko. You think I don't want another child? You think I would deprive my husband on some kind of whim?"

Katara flinched and stepped backward, away from the rage, away from Mai's burning eyes. "No, I, uh, I just wanted you to think about everything…"

"I have; I've thought about every single thing, every person involved, how I might cope if it happened again, who Zuko could get to help him with the children if I….., where I could go if I had to leave…..everything. You don't know what it was like, what it's still like. Every day is a struggle. Every day I wake up and I have to fight my way through to the end. Yes, it's better, so much better than fifteen months ago. And yes, there are good moments, good hours, and I love my family more than I thought possible. But, it's still inside me. And if it comes out again, fully, I don't know if I could stand it."

She felt exhausted now and dropped down to the grass, heedless of her robes and the way they crumpled beneath her, heedless of the damp from the earlier rain. Sensing her mother's distress, as she seemed preternaturally able to, Miyako trotted back and settled on Mai's lap, pressing her body into the bigger one, stroking Mai's arm with sweet tenderness.

"Mama," she said, staring up and Mai's heart shattered.

"Miya." Mai wrapped her arms around the toddler, gathering courage from her closeness. "Mommy loves you," she whispered, tickling the girl's ear. Miyako's laughter infected Mai and she flashed a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Katara, for blowing up like that. I seem to have misplaced some of my restraint."

"Don't mention it. You're feeling a lot. It's good to let it out." She plopped down beside her friend. "I don't know how to advise you. Having a second baby is taking a chance. This sounds heartless, but I'm glad I'm not in your shoes."

"I'm glad you're not too. And I'm glad that you and Aang came for a visit. We don't see enough of each other."

That was true, though at that moment, Mai wished Katara would vanish and Zuko appear. She needed him to hold her and needed to talk and needed to make some sort of decision or come up with a guideline for their future. Iroh would say to let nature take its course; if a baby came, wonderful, if not, so be it. But Mai wanted more control than that.

"Let's head back," the waterbender suggested. "Kya and Bumi must be driving Aang crazy by now. He's not always around, but when he is, he dives into fatherhood with everything he's got."

Mai detected a wistful edge to Katara's words. Everyone had problems. "All right, yes; I want to speak with Zuko anyway. But we'll see you all at dinner, right?"

"Would not miss it," Katara enthused.

~~~~0000~~~~

Zuko swooped Miyako off her feet and covered her face with kisses. "Looks like my little girl had fun. How about my big one?" He examined Mai with thoughtful eyes, taking in everything. "You and Katara had a talk?"

"We did; a talk about a second child." She kept her tone neutral.

He let out a huff of air and closed his eyes. It was something they'd danced around for months now, Zuko hesitant to broach the topic, Mai filled with stiff tension. He blurted out his next words. "Mai, please, we don't need to have another baby. Miyako's enough."

But the Fire Lady caught the look he gave their daughter and knew he was not _lying_ exactly, but saying what he thought Mai needed to hear. He was quite willing to sacrifice the idea of another daughter or a son for the sake of Mai's mental and emotional well being. That's what he thought Mai needed. And she loved him for it.

"She is enough. She's amazing. But I can see the longing in you, Zuko."

"I can't ask you to risk yourself. I won't do it. Yes, I'd love another child. But I love _you_. I need _you_. And without you none of it would be the same, none of it would matter nearly as much."

"I don't want to give in to fear. I want to live my life, our life, the way we've always planned."

"Things change, Mai. Plans change. We've got our little family. I'm okay with that….honestly."

Mai plucked a blade from her sleeve and twirled it, round and round and round until the fire inside her cooled. Miyako watched with eyes wide, fascinated by the spinning, shiny metal and mother briefly wondered whether daughter might enjoy throwing knives one day too. Nothing would make her prouder.

"Yes, things change."

And nothing in life was predictable. No matter your wealth, your position, your strength, your intelligence, some things were simply beyond your control. Making the most of what you have, what was given to you, that was the trick.

Still, Mai felt as though she was giving up on something, not fighting for what she and Zuko had every right to experience. She felt relieved too. And she worried.

"You won't hate me twenty years from now and blame me for not giving you a bigger family?"

"I can't believe you're asking me that."

"I'm asking. So answer."

"No, no I won't. I've told you before, Mai, that I could never hate you. And none of this is your fault." He stepped closer to Mai, set Miyako down and tugged his wife into his arms. "And," he added, "You've handled it all with such grace. I admire you."

Somehow, that was exactly what Mai needed to hear. "Thank you," she replied. "Really, thank you."

_Thank you for loving me through this. Thank you for accepting me completely, the bad and the good. Thank you for being such a good father and a good man. Thank you for everything wonderful you bring to my life, for bringing out the best in me._

Mai cupped her husband's cheek before giving him a quick kiss.

"So, should we get cleaned up for dinner? I'll give Miya a bath. She needs it. And I haven't seen much of her today."

"Mmm, yes, that would be good. Want me to lay out some clothes for you?" Mai wandered over to the wardrobe and began to rifle through tunics and pants.

"All right," Zuko called over his shoulder.

A few minutes later, giggling and splashing and silly noises came from the bathroom. Mai wiped away tears, mourning for the second baby she would never have, reveling in the joy her first and only brought her now, after so much turmoil, after such a terrible battle.

"It will be fine," she told herself. "We'll be fine."

And for the first time since Miyako's birth, Mai truly believed it.


End file.
